December
by Hopeakaarme
Summary: My Christmas fic 2005. Aziraphale's not what he appears to be, and neither is Crowley. Both angels and demons are about to notice this. SLASH CrowleyAziraphale RaphaelGabriel MichaelBeelzebub
1. Archangels Argue

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: Okay, so this is going to be like a Christmas calendar. I'll try my best to post a chapter a day, and if everything goes well, the last chapter should be out on the Christmas Day. I make no promises about the length of the chapters, but I aim to have them all at least 500 words long. The point is, there'll be something new to read every day!

Oh, and this will be Crowley/Aziraphale SLASH. Meaning, they are in an established romantical relationship. If such a thing offends you, do not even bother to read, leave alone flame.

(No, I'm not going to address the issue of them getting together in this fic. There are many good fics about that out there. Or, if you want to see my view on it, you cna read my fics _Flee or Fall_ and _Falling in Love_, which tell basically the same story from different points of view. But in this fic, they're already together. Deal with it.)

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Chapter 1:

Archangels Argue

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In an unidentifiable place, somewhere in existence, four mostly human-shaped creatures were gathered around a table. Each was nursing a cup of tea between his hands, azure blue eyes watching the other creatures. Every one of them had curly hair, the style ranging from short black curls to a long blond ponytail, shoulder-length red and honey brown locks marking the halfway. Their clothes varied just as much, the elegant business suit of one creature a clear contrast to the combination of a T-shirt and jeans of another. There was one thing they all had in common, though -- they all had large, pearly white wings. 

Ah, yes. The four archangels were off-duty.

"The situation is quite interesting," remarked Raphael. "Certainly nothing alike has ever happened."

"And that's all good and well," muttered Uriel darkly. "The last thing we need is all our angels going around trying to find a demon to sleep with. One couple is more than enough!"

"Oh, I think they are quite sweet," chuckled Gabriel, a twinkle in his eyes as he sipped his tea. "It is good to see that at least some of us are able to overcome the prejudices and let love conquer."

"Demons know no love!" spat Uriel, his eyes flashing. "And those prejudices are not meant to be overcome! Angels and demons don't mix, aren't supposed to mix, and shouldn't be allowed to mix!"

"Alas, it's not for us to decide," Michael said calmly, unfazed by the other archangel's outburst. "Like you know very well, He has allowed this to happen. He has decided not to let Aziraphale Fall because of this affair, and we have to respect His decision. I'm not saying that I was happy with the situation, but my opinion does not matter, as does not any of yours. And, to be honest, I would not want him to Fall, either -- even though I don't approve of him sleeping with a demon, I certainly don't want to lose such a warrior."

"Warrior? Aziraphale?" echoed Raphael, very amused. "Oh, please. Despite his undeniably quite impressive actions during the Would-Have-Been-Apocalypse, he hardly is a warrior of any kind. And it's not like you would lose much power along with him, either; after all, he's a mere principality."

Michael, however, shook his head. "If it only was that easy," he muttered. "You can strip an angel of their rank, but not of their power. Our powers are tied to what we are, our very essence. All records may claim that Aziraphale's a principality, he may think so himself, even his powers may appear as those of a lower angel. However, he once belonged to the cherubim guarding the Gates of the Garden, and that is what he still is in essence. Aziraphale is not a 'mere principality', like you suggest, Raphael -- he is a cherub just lacking a sword. And, even more importantly, he has the fighting skills of one."

"And, given that sword, he would make a rather remarkable addition to the Host," concluded Gabriel. "I see your point, Michael." With a grin, he added, "They still are sweet together, though."

"You're a hopeless romantic," sighed Raphael. Turning towards Michael, he added, "Are you sure, though? I mean, he hardly has shown any kind of signs of his true cherub powers, now has he?"

"Yes, he has," the highest one of them replied. "While preparing to fight as everything else seemed to fail, he picked up a sword. And then, he set it on fire. True, any principality could make a sword burn -- but only a cherub can set it in divine fire. It was divine fire, too; I do know it when I see it."

"What about the demon, then?" asked Uriel sharply. "Even if Aziraphale has not Fallen for sleeping with him, what if the demon tempts him into Falling for some other reason?"

"That's doubtful!" Gabriel announced cheerfully. "I've kind of observed the situation, and I'd say that there's a bigger chance of the demon Rising than of our boy Falling."

"It's possible for a demon to Rise?" Raphael asked, interested. "I've never heard of such a thing."

"That's because it has never happened before," Gabriel said, his eyes twinkling again. "However, were it to ever happen, I think that this Crowley fellow has the best chances of it."

"Ah, yes. Crowley, Carowiel by his old name," Michael said, a thoughtful expression on his face. "He, too, has been placed in a rank far below his true powers. Before Falling, he was one of the cherubim as well -- do you really think they'd let a lower demon attempt the first temptation of the Man? And still, he's ranked as the demonic equivalent of a principality. If he Rose by Aziraphale's influence, I would definitely get two very worthy additions to the Hosts. Two experienced cherubs -- now there's a force to be reckoned with."

"Yes, indeed," snorted Uriel. "And that's exactly why we should keep an eye on them. They already managed to stop the Apocalypse once. Do you think they'll do anything else the other time around? If you recall, they were brave -- or stupid -- enough to even go against the Adversary rather than let the world to come to its rightful end. You'd better make sure you do have them in your pocket, Michael, or they might cause true problems. Knowing them, you might lose seraphim in the fight!"

"Now, don't have such dark thoughts, my friend," Gabriel said with a bright smile. "I'm sure everything will be all right. And besides, there's not going to be a new Apocalypse in quite a while, now is there? So, we have no reason to worry. Let the dear boys have some fun once in a while!"

"Indeed," chuckled Raphael, and Michael just snorted in mild amusement. And thus, Uriel was quiet, even though his expression was still definitely the darkest of the four.

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** Next chapter:**

Aziraphale and Crowley make an appearance. And yes, that's all I'm telling right now... Where's the point if you know it without _waiting_ for it?


	2. Morning Musings

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: Technically, it's already 2nd of December, albeit very early so. And, seeing as I already have the second chapter written, I might just as well post it, right? So, enjoy!

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Chapter 2:

Morning Musings

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Crowley awoke slowly. For a moment he just lay exactly where he was, not even bothering to open his eyes, enjoying the warmth that surrounded him from every direction. Then he turned to hide his face in the pillow for a while of more sleep. (After all, demons were certainly entitled to some laziness.) 

However, instead of the soft pillow, his face encountered something just as soft but definitely more pleasant. Opening his eyes, he saw a large white wing right in front of him. Reaching out a hand, he stroked the shiny feathers, enjoying the silky feel of the familiar appendages.

A slight smile rose to Crowley's lips. It was always like this. Aziraphale had managed to get accustomed to sleeping, thanks to Crowley's never-ending efforts of tiring him out every night. However, the angel wasn't still actually used to it. Therefore, almost every night Aziraphale slept he woke up to find his wings out as his control of them had disappeared during the night. The wings only appeared when Aziraphale dreamed of flying, but, as he was an angel, he dreamed of flying almost every night. Therefore, Crowley was now rather used to waking up to a fully winged angel. And did he like it, too.

After a moment he felt the wing under his hand twitching a bit as Aziraphale began to wake up. Indeed, not much later he found himself looking into a pair of azure blue eyes. "Morning, beautiful," he drawled, a smirk finding its way to his face even without trying. "Slept well?"

A tiny flush rose to the angel's absolutely adorable cheeks. "What do you think?" Aziraphale asked as sharply as he could, which was not really very sharp as he was still half asleep. "I slept like a log, which is not a surprise, considering how long you kept me awake."

"My, my, Angel, I'm shocked. Such insinuations from one as pure as you are. Am I truly that horrible an influence?" Smiling lazily, Crowley then leant forward to place a light kiss on the angel's cheek. "You're cute when you blush," he said teasingly, inwardly cheering as his comment made the angel blush even more.

"Oh, shut up," muttered Aziraphale, halfheartedly swinging an arm to the demon's direction. He then sat up on the bed, blinked, and was instantly awake. To Crowley's disappointment he almost immediately withdrew his wings. Although the demon loved his own well groomed, elegantly black wings and wouldn't have changed them for anything, he also loved the angel's pearly white wings. Or, rather, he loved touching them. And especially much he loved the sounds the angel made when he touched them.

"So, watcha doing today?" asked Crowley then lazily, actually bothering to make sure he was awake as well. "Do you have anything important to do? Or do I have you all to myself for the whole day?"

"Yes, I have something important to do, and no, you can't have me to yourself," Aziraphale replied, standing up and searching for his clothes. Crowley noticed with some satisfaction that while the angel still insisted on actually dressing himself, he did miracle the clothes clean and smooth. Oh, he was definitely rubbing off on the angel. Not too much, of course, but a bit. Just enough.

"And what's so important you'd rather do it than be with me?" he whined. It wasn't that he couldn't spend a day away from his angel, it was just that he preferred not to. Aziraphale was so much fun.

"If you've failed to notice, it'll be Christmas in just a few days," replied Aziraphale lightly. "So, quite obviously, I'll be preparing your present. Or, more precisely, I'm trying to decide just what to get to you," he added with a slight smile. He looked happy. He was always happy when it was Christmas time.

Crowley muttered something indecent under his breath, then stood up and wished he had clothes on. And, naturally, he had, although the clothes were rather surprised as of how on Earth they had got there. Taking his sunglasses from where they lay on top of the bedside drawer, he placed them on his nose, hiding his eyes from view. Although at first he had been rather uncomfortable displaying them at all, having grown accustomed to wearing his glasses everywhere and anywhere, he had lately taken to not hiding his eyes from Aziraphale. The angel didn't seem bothered by the snakelike appearance of his eyes, and Crowley had to admit that it was good to see everything brighter every once in a while.

He now bid a hurried goodbye to his angel, hardly even hearing the happy response that was sent his way. There was only one thought in his mind, one that was very difficult to ignore.

Christmas was in a few days. And he didn't have a gift for his angel.

Whoever damn it all.

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A/N: Whoops... Rather big a mood swing Crowley has there, don't you agree?

**Next chapter:**

Some angels appear. None of them is Aziraphale. (Well, not directly, anyway.)


	3. Annoying Agreement

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: Again, it's very early in the day to post this -- to be exact, about 4:30 AM. However, I'm not sure whether I'll have the time to post this in the evening, so you'll just have the next chapter very early.

I like writing the archangels. I really, really like writing them -- even more so than I suspected I would when I planned the storyline. Expect to see a lot of them in the future -- probably mostly Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, but occasionally Uriel, too.

Anyway. On with it!

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Chapter 3:

Annoying Agreement

* * *

"Aww, this is good," Gabriel chuckled. "A demon having problems with Christmas gifts? Why, I never thought I'd actually see this day!" He ate the rest of his bisquit with one bite, then wiped a few tiny crumbs away from his denim-clad leg. Being His main messenger to the inhabitants of Earth (and the most eager observer of the affairs of humanity in all of Heaven) he had picked up most human traits of the four archangels. Right now he was wearing blue jeans and a white T-shirt that read, "100 Angel." 

"I'd be much happier if I didn't want to see it now, either," grumbled Uriel, sending a dark glare at the small sphere that currently showed a very distracted demon walking down a street. "Is it really necessary to spy on that vile creature even now? Isn't it bad enough that I know somebody like him _exists_ at the first place?" Never one to forgo his angelic position, Uriel was even now dressed in his usual white robe, his short, black curls shining clean and neat in the light that seemed to be coming from nowhere.

"Stop being such a spoilsport, Uriel," sighed Raphael, rolling his eyes. "Just because you never have fun doesn't mean that nobody else's allowed to have fun, either. And besides, the demon is interesting."

"Oh, yes," muttered Uriel sarcastically. "I've always loved seeing how hellish beasts plan on our destruction. Forgive me, Raphael, if my concept of 'fun' is not the same as yours."

"I think you've never really had fun," Michael commented lightly. "You're far too uptight, Uriel -- and, coming from _me_, you know it's _bad_. It'd do good to you to let loose every once in a while."

"That is exactly what makes angels Fall!" bellowed the darkhaired angel. "And I shall not Fall!"

"Now, now, Uriel. None of us is about to Fall anytime soon," Raphael said dryly. "So, anyway. We have to go to check the main choir," he then said, standing up and smoothening his light grey business suit. Gabriel followed his example. Their casual clothing made way to robes of silver, gold, and pearly white.

"They've been practicing day and night for a whole week now!" Uriel snapped irritably. He obviously didn't have a good day. Then again, Uriel was by nature so grumpy that most angels counted it as His direct intervention if Uriel actually _had_ a good day. "When do you think it'll be enough? The main choir has been the same for a couple of millenia, I'd think they are good enough already even without more practice!"

"Well, there are some that keep telling us that they should practice _more_," Gabriel said lightly. "After all, we're only His messenger and the archangel of healing. According to some, the main choir can never be good enough unless the archangel of Arts is leading it..."

The darkhaired angel gritted his teeth. "That's a human belief," muttered the not-very-eager patron saint of Arts. "Our posts had been set millenia before the humans decided to set us in new positions!"

"But the humans _believe_ in what they have made up," Raphael commented with a smile. "You should know how much power simple belief can contain. Therefore, my friend, you _are_ the angel of Arts..."

The two standing archangels disappeared from that particular plane of existence just in time to avoid the teacup that was sent flying after them. Michael appeared still unfazed, and merely raised an eyebrow at his fuming colleague. "Hmm. Sensitive much, eh?" he asked casually. The only response he received from Uriel was a dirty glare and something muttered low enough for him not to hear -- which was probably good.

His second in command stood also. In black trousers and a shirt, his blond hair on a high ponytail, Michael looked rather unangelic -- and also very dangerous. As the Warrior Prince of Heaven, he always looked dangerous, thanks to the aura of power and skill that surrounded him everywhere, but he also carefully chose his clothing to confirm that message. Now, however, his human clothes disappeared, leaving him in a gleaming armor of red and gold, a sword sharper than any other weapon hanging on his hip.

"And what are you going to do?" asked Uriel irritably. "Walk around asking if everybody knows the words for the songs so that they're ready for the Night? That's all just waste of time!"

"Well, even that'd be better than your sulking," Michael replied calmly. "Christmas is coming, Uriel; you should be rejoicing, like every other being in the Heaven and down on the Earth! And, for your information, I am going to lead a small group of cherubim to slay demons that have wandered to the Earth."

"But not one of them," the other archangel commented snidely as their little teaplace faded into inexistence around them, leaving them right in the middle of Heaven. "You're going to leave him alone, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." Michael's calmness never left him. "And if you must know, it is by His command that I do so. Nobody is to harm the demon Crowley, for he is very dear to one of His servants."

"And a horrible enemy to the rest. It is unnatural, Michael! Why don't you see it?" The two passed a small group of lower angels as they flew through the busy streets of their miraculous home town. "No angel is meant to love a demon -- to _sleep_ with a demon! That is just -- just -- _wrong_!"

Now, Michael stopped and turned to face the other celestial being once again. "It is by His hand that this has been allowed to happen, and it is by His command that it is allowed to go on," he said quietly, his azure blue eyes firmly locked at a set of similar ones. "Neither you nor I are going to do anything about the angel Aziraphale or the demon Crowley. They are absolutely off limits. Understood?"

Uriel nodded stiffly. "I still don't like it," he muttered darkly.

"Nobody's asking you to," replied the Prince of Heaven, rolling his eyes. "Just do as you're told."

Then both archangels flew away, both occupied with their own tasks and thoughts. Neither noticed the few lower angels gathered below them, ones that had caught only parts of their discussion -- dangerous parts.

"A demon sleeping with an angel?" muttered one of them, horrified. "How terrible that is!"

"Indeed," another replied. "We must put an end to it immediately! Such a thing surely can't be allowed!"

"On that we shall agree," said the third one. And with that, they sealed their agreement. The content of the agreement, unspoken but understood, was to destroy the demon known by the name Crowley, or otherwise separate him from the angel Aziraphale, whom he had wrongly seduced.

Of course, none of these angels knew just who had told to simply leave the two be.

* * *

** Next chapter:**

Crowley and Aziraphale are both having a hard time trying to come up with ideas for presents. Things happen to help both of them, though.


	4. Present Problems

Disclaimer: I still own very little.

A/N: And the chapter for the 4th is here, long and shiny! Aziraphale and Crowley both have some problems. An appearance from one of the archangels is included.

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Chapter 4:

Present Problems

* * *

Aziraphale sighed a bit as he distractedly rearranged his books for the umpteenth time. He had absolutely no idea what to get to Crowley. Everything the demon might want he had already. So, what to get him? 

The sound of the door being opened made him raise his eyes. However, the next second he froze, just staring at the newcomer. The angelic aura the guest was emitting was simply overwhelming, leaving him just standing there and wondering just what he had done to merit a visit from one of the archangels.

"Ah, Aziraphale," Gabriel said with a bright smile. Even though his clothes were very human, from his nice white coat to his worn-out sneakers, he still managed to appear otherwordly beautiful. Of course, that was something any angel could achieve if they put their mind to it. Even Aziraphale could manage it if the need arose. This far, it never had. "Don't be so stiff, my dear boy. I still do consider you my little brother."

A brief smile rose to the lower angel's lips. Ah, yes -- his elder brother. Although they were all created from the same essence, and were not really related to each other by blood, the angels did form imaginary bonds. When he had been one of the cherubim, Gabriel had acted as his elder brother. Greatly respected and well above him in the ranks, yes, but still his brother, and thus not something to be feared.

"Forgive me, Gabriel," muttered Aziraphale, his eyes downcast. "I hardly deserve to be called your brother anymore, though. You are an archangel, and I'm a mere principality."

An odd grin crossed Gabriel's face, one the meaning of which Aziraphale was unable to decipher. "It may appear so, yes," the higher angel then said. "However, you are my brother -- and you are welcome to ask for my help if you need any." The azure blue eyes twinkling, he then asked, "Well, do you need help?"

Now, Aziraphale chuckled weakly, finally able to relax a bit. Whatever was or wasn't between them, it was rather obvious that Gabriel's visit meant no trouble to him. Therefore, he could relax at least a bit. "Unless you know what to get as a Christmas gift for a demon, no, I don't need your help," he said.

"Ah, yes. Your dear demon," Gabriel said, a smile still on his lips as he sat down on a chair that seemed rather surprised to actually exist -- a moment earlier it hadn't. "Don't worry," added the archangel as he saw Aziraphale's expression, "I do not judge. In fact, I quite support your relationship, as does Raphael. Michael doesn't disapprove, and even Uriel, unwilling as he may be, has been forced to accept it. As long as we four are on your side, you have nothing to worry about from Above." With a tiny grin, he continued, "You see, He has told to leave you be. Raphael and I were in your favour even before the command came out, though -- as long as you're happy, I'm happy for you. You two make such a sweet couple!"

For a moment Aziraphale couldn't come up with an answer, his mind busy trying to understand the possible meanings of this. So, to distract both himself and his guest, he hurriedly offered, "Tea?"

"Yes, please," Gabriel replied with a smile. Accepting the cup that was handed to him, the archangel then sipped at his drink, looking like it was perfectly normal for him to have tea in the middle of a dusty bookshop. (Whether Gabriel had locked the shop's door or Aziraphale had actually had the presence of mind to do so remained unknown. The fact was, however, that nobody entered the shop.) "So. This demon of yours -- Crowley, isn't he? Originally Carowiel, I believe -- what does he like? Does he like books, clothes, music, anything -- well, aside from virgin sacrifices and torturing kittens, that is?"

"Gabriel, that is _not_ funny," moaned Aziraphale, too scandalized to even think about whether it was appropriate to say such a thing to an archangel. "Crowley would never torture kittens, and he always says that virgin sacrifices are just disgusting -- apparently the virgins dying isn't half as entertaining as them becoming non-virgins." To even his own surprise he actually managed to say that with only a tiny hint of blush on his cheeks. Oh, yes, Crowley was definitely rubbing off on him. "As for what he likes... well, if there's some new trendy electronical gadget, he probably has it already. He doesn't care much for books --" at this, his voice took momentarily a scandalized tone, although he had already gotten used to this particular quirk of his lover -- "and whatever clothes he wants he just miracles for himself. I think his music collection is about as perfect as my book collection -- it's nowhere near complete, but I certainly don't know what he's still lacking." With a sigh, the angel then finished, "It's very hard to come up with a gift for somebody who has literally everything he happens to want."

Now, Gabriel's expression was sympathetic. "Oh, I know," he said. "I've spent most of this month wondering just what I'm going to get for Raphael. By this rate I'll just give the same thing as last year."

"Oh?" Aziraphale now turned curious. "And what was that, exactly?"

"Well, that's between Raphael and me," the archangel replied, his sapphire eyes twinkling cheerfully. "Let's just say that it began with a kiss and ended nowhere near as innocently."

The lower angel blinked a couple of times. "So... Raphael and you...?" he finally managed to utter.

"Yes, Raphael and I," Gabriel confirmed happily. "We've been together since before time. So, forever and ever -- literally. It's quite logical, you see," he then added. "Uriel is and has always been a lone wolf, and Michael is too caught up in his work to notice anything else. So, we were drawn together, and, well, one thing led to another. The usual story, you know. And we're quite happy about it, too."

For a moment Aziraphale remained silent. Then, however, he simply shook his head a bit to clear his mind and was okay -- six millenia among humans had made him rather immune to surprises. "So, what do you suggest I get for Crowley?" he then asked. "That's why you came here, isn't it?"

"See, little brother? You still know me," Gabriel commented lightly. "Yes, that is why I came here. You see, I was taking a look around, and then I came across this little treasure..." And he drew something from somewhere that had nothing to do with physical pockets and everything to do with angelic miracles.

Aziraphale took one look at the thing the archangel now had in his hands. And stared.

Then, a grin started to spread on his face.

* * *

Crowley muttered curses under his breath as he walked down the street. This was _bad_. As a demon, he hardly celebrated Christmas aside from getting so drunk that he passed out, staying at Aziraphale's place so that the angel's aura would protect him from the holiness of the gathered Host. However, to Aziraphale, Christmas was very important, and so were all Christmas traditions. The angel wouldn't say anything if Crowley didn't get him a present, the demon knew that, but there would be a slightly disappointed look in the blue eyes. And that would hurt Crowley more than anything else could. 

There was a problem, though -- just what should he get for his angel? Well, a rare book would be a perfect gift, sure, but where'd he suddenly find one that Aziraphale didn't own already?

A woman with her arms loaded with gifts suddenly ran into him, accidentally knocking his sunglasses down. The poor woman's apologies were forgotten as she got a good look at his eyes. Being on a bad mood, Crowley didn't even bother to make her forget about it. If _he_ had a bad day, then everybody else could have one as well -- and running into an angry demon and _knowing_ it could spoil anyone's day. However, he didn't feel one bit better as he continued his walk through the busy streets.

Suddenly, however, Crowley felt a familiar tug at the back of his mind. At first, he was confused. He'd felt the touch of an angelic aura, that he knew. However, he was confused, as he recognized this aura -- it was Aziraphale. But he'd got the picture that the angel was going to stay at his bookshop the whole day...

Deciding to follow his instincts the demon turned at the next corner, hurrying through the sea of people. The tug of the aura got slightly stronger, but it was still very weak, so much weaker than his angel's strong presence. Still, he knew he was close to the source of the aura...

Suddenly, Crowley stopped, knowing that he should not continue any more. Looking to his side, he saw an ancient little store selling antiques. And there, right in front of him, lay the object that was giving out this aura that was impossible to tell apart from that of Aziraphale.

It was beautiful. Heavenly -- or, rather, hellishly --, dangerously beautiful. It was perfect.

* * *

A/N: Aww... two little cliffhangers in the same chapter. Don't you just _love_ me? 

**Next chapter: **Crowley admires whatever it is that caught his eye. (Any guesses?)


	5. Secret Solutions

Disclaimer: I own very little.  


A/N: This chapter is dedicated to **myotismon13** for actually guessing right what Crowley found. (Except that it's not flaming anymore. Well, not at the moment, anyway.) Now, everybody, try to guess exactly what Azi's going to give to Crowley... It shouldn't be too hard...  


* * *

Chapter 5:

Secret Solutions

* * *

"Where exactly did you get these?" asked Aziraphale, eyeing the objects scattered on the table in front of him. "I thought they were lost forever! Didn't I destroy them back then? I thought I did, at least." 

"Well, you probably would have," Gabriel replied with a slight smile, obviously amused at the lower angel's enthusiasm. "However, I took them to myself for safekeeping, thinking that you'd probably appreciate it if I kept them from being destroyed by you. Then, well, I simply forgot about them altogether, until I just recently came across them while looking through my various possessions."

"Thank you," said Aziraphale with all the sincerity an angel could have -- which was a whole lot. "Really, thank you, Gabriel. You don't know how much this means to me." With a beaming smile, he glanced up to the creature he considered his elder brother. "And now I have a gift for Crowley, too."

"I figured out as much," chuckled the archangel. He then waved his hand, and the objects were collected into a neat stack, fastened with a pearly white ribbon. "I'm sure he'll be interested in reading these."

"Well, he should be," the principality commented. Then, however, he turned very serious. "I really hope he doesn't take this as a hint that I liked him more before he Fell," he muttered, the possibility of that only just now dawning on him. "That's not true! Well, so I did like him back then, but it was more of a crush than anything else. Now, I really love him... am in love with him." With a helpless gaze at his companion, he then added, "You do understand what I'm trying to say, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Gabriel replied with a gentle smile. "And I agree with you. As long as it has been, I still remember how you were back then. You simply wouldn't shut up about him. And after he Fell, you wouldn't say a word for about eternity -- not that I could tell, as there wasn't time back then, of course. Now, you seem less obsessed and more loving. You weren't the only one to admire him back then, though, and now you are," he then added teasingly. "Not that you seem to mind."

Aziraphale flushed a bit. "Well, everybody did admire him," he said with a wistful tone. "He was beautiful even for an angel and powerful even for a cherub. Michael himself praised him for his skills with a sword, and when the choirs gathered, his voice was the most beautiful one. Really, what was there not to love?"

"Indeed." Now, Gabriel simply nodded, at the same time wondering how his little brother couldn't see that all those characteristics had once applied -- and mostly still applied -- to Aziraphale himself as well. "But back then he was Carowiel -- and now he is Crowley. Surely there is a difference?"

"Oh, yes," Aziraphale replied with a smile. "When he was still an angel, I admired him -- like everybody else -- just for what I could see in him, the outside, a facade which was destroyed in his Fall. Now, however, I know him inside and out, and I love him for all of that. There are dark parts to him, yes -- and even though I don't approve of them, I accept them as parts of him. I love him -- all of him."

"That is good to hear," Gabriel commented. "It seems that you truly are happy with him. Of course, I'd need his opinion as well to be absolutely sure, but at the moment, I think this is just enough." With a stern tone, he then added, "However, if he ever truly hurts you, I'll have his hide. _Nobody_ hurts my little brother."

A weak smile on his lips Aziraphale wondered what would happen if he and Crowley ever as much as seriously argued. Apparently an archangelic visit to his lover would take place. Better not to argue, then.

* * *

For a moment Crowley just admired the object of his desire through the glass. Then, however, he headed for the door of the shop and stepped in. A bell rang above him, drawing the shopkeeper from the backroom. He was a tiny man, old enough to match some of his products in age. Glancing at his customer over the tiny glasses on his nose, the man asked, "How can I help you, Mister?" 

"That sword," the demon blurted out, absolutely itching to get a closer look at it. "The silvery one you have displayed in the window. I'd like to buy it." It was all he could do to keep himself from twitching.

"Certainly, Mister," the shopkeeper replied, his voice much like the noise one might hear while walking in creaking stairs. "Why would you be purchasing it, if I may ask?"

"As a Christmas present for my angel." Crowley smirked a bit as the man took the sword from its place of display, holding it in his old, wrinkly hands. This close to it the demon could feel the power radiating from the object. Had the angelic aura belonged to any other celestial being, he would have been in blisters by now. However, as it was Aziraphale's, he was already accustomed to it and thus had no reaction.

"Well, she sure has an unusual taste, if I may say so." The man held the sword in his hands, letting him admire the way it shone even in the dim light of the shop. "This is a very exceptional piece of smithery, as you can see," he continued with the same creaking voice. "A very fine piece indeed."

Crowley almost had to bit his lip to keep himself from commenting on either of those statements. So, instead of revealing the true -- well, at least apparent -- gender of his lover, or the identity of the smith -- wouldn't _that_ have been a shock -- he simply reached out his hands. As the sword was placed in them, albeit cautiously, he then admired the sword's balance. It was just like he remembered his own being all those millenia back in time -- just like he remembered Aziraphale's being, too, and for a good reason. It was, after all, Aziraphale's -- the cherub's flaming sword, given to humans by its rightful owner. Crowley didn't even have to concentrate to feel the divine warmth still trapped inside the precious weapon.

"I don't think I can take it with me just yet," he then said, though. "I probably couldn't hide it well enough." After all, Aziraphale was bound to visit his apartment at least once before Christmas, and he most certainly would detect the hint of his own aura in the middle of the otherwise demonic display of power. "Will you keep it reserved for me if I come by later to pick it up?"

"But I haven't even told you the price yet," the man said, looking a bit shocked. "This is not cheap, Mister. It is an ancient object, older than you probably even realize --"

"Money is not an issue," the demon cut him off, inwardly snickering. No, it was the man who didn't realize just how old the sword was. "Name your price, and I'll pay it. Just keep this reserved until I come by."

"Very well." The shopkeeper nodded curtly, and then accepted the sword back. Crowley was very reluctant to let go of the ancient weapon, but he forced himself to do so. Then, without any further comments, he walked out of the shop, still feeling a hint of Aziraphale's cherubic powers lingering.

Oh, yes. He had indeed found the perfect Christmas present for his angel.

* * *

**Next chapter:**

Well, it's either the lower angels starting to put their plan into action... Or more archangelic appearances. Hands up, how many of you would like to see some Raphael/Gabriel?


	6. Sex and Singing

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: It seems that about everybody wanted some Raphael/Gabriel. Fine, that is what you'll get. Nothing too graphic, though, sorry -- I'm trying to keep the rating down.  


* * *

Chapter 6:

Sex and Singing

* * *

The moment Gabriel returned to Heaven, he heard somebody approaching him. Turning around with a smile on his lips, he came face to face with Raphael. The redhead was clad in his heavy robes with embroidery in yellow and gold, while Gabriel's attire was still that of a human. A mere thought changed his clothes into similar robes, only his were decorated with shades of silver and heavenly blue. 

"How was your visit to Earth?" asked Raphael, coming to stand beside him. "Enjoyable, I hope?"

"Oh, very much so," replied Gabriel lightly. "My dear little brother seems to be truly happy, although he still appears a bit unsure about the whole affair. And, from what I have managed to see, Crowley loves him as well. I don't think I have to worry about those two anymore."

"So you were worried at some point?" chuckled the other archangel. "I thought you supported their relationship from the beginning. Or were you just giving the demon the benefit of doubt?"

"Something along those lines." With another smile, Gabriel then shook out his wings, flexing them a couple of times. Despite how much he enjoyed his occasional trips to Earth, he still loved the sensation of having his wings out and free. "And how is the main choir doing at the moment? Not too badly, I hope?"

"They are heavenly good, as always," Raphael replied with a grin. Then, however, he turned serious. "Your feathers seem to be ruffled up," he commented with a bit of a scolding tone. "Seemingly you still haven't mastered the art of folding them properly. May I groom them for you?"

"Of course, love," replied the brunet angel lovingly. He then turned his back to the other archangel, enjoying the feeling of gentle hands sinking into his wings. Bent feathers were straightened, dirty ones cleaned, damaged ones healed or simply plucked out. After a moment Gabriel was quietly purring without even noticing it consciously, arching both his back and wings to press against his lover's touch.

Raphael leaned forward to speak teasingly into his ear. "Hmm... like that, do you?" His warm breath tickled Gabriel's ear. "You know, we do have a bit of time before anybody's expecting us to be anywhere..."

There was no vocal response. Instead, Gabriel turned his head to meet Raphael's lips with his own. This, of course, qualified as a perfectly understandable answer.

So, Raphael miracled the doors closed, confident that no other citizen of the Golden City would be able to disturb their private moment. Then he turned his attention back to Gabriel, who by now had turned around to face him once again. Meeting the other archangel in another kiss, Raphael started to relieve Gabriel of his robes, getting the same treatment in return. Sure, they could have just simply miracled the clothes off each other, but where was the fun in that?

By the time both of their robes were off, there was no need to "make an effort". Rather it would have been quite an effort to stay sexless. And, of course, they were going to use that fact to their benefit.

* * *

Raphael lazily stretched himself over the bed. He was currently sweaty, sated, and very, very comfortable. And he had absolutely no intention of moving another inch for quite some time. 

Gabriel seemed to be of alike mind, the only movements he was making at the moment being the caresses his hand was currently inflicting upon his lover's wings. For some time they both just lay in absolute silence.

Finally, though, Gabriel sat up on the bed. Stretching his wings and arms simultaneously, he slowly stood up. "We should get up at last," he said. "Somebody's bound to wonder what we're up to."

"Let them wonder," muttered Raphael. "Besides, who would? Uriel's off sulking, Michael's off smiting, and nobody else would ever question us. I bet we could have sex in front of the whole Host and nobody would dare to even blink." With a smirk, he added, "Sometimes, it's good to be an archangel."

"Only sometimes?" asked Gabriel teasingly. Then he miracled his clothes on. "Now, get up or I'll miracle the bed away." Not that he ever would have, of course; it was about the only permanent piece of furniture in the whole apartment. Angels didn't maybe need sleep, but being an archangel could be occasionally very exhausting, and each of the four had a bed in their apartments for the necessary rest and refreshment. (The one in Raphael's apartment wasn't used very often, though, thanks to the convenient doorways that adjoined his apartment to Gabriel's, but then again, that was nobody's business but theirs.)

Although Raphael did know this, he still forced himself to get up. "Fine, fine, no need to start threatening me," he muttered. "Remind me again just what we have to do today and why can't we just skip it?"

"Well, we have to do some paperwork, supervise yet another practice of the main choir, collect a few overdue reports and send them to Michael for signing, ask Uriel for the latest statistics of demon sightings... _and_ meet Metatron about an hour from now. So, unless you'd like to tell _him_ just why you couldn't bother to show up, I suggest we get going pretty soon."

This, of course, made Raphael much quicker in his movements. In a flash he was in his robes, his wings perfectly arranged, and not a single hair amiss on his head. "Okay, let's get going," he said cheerfully.

"I think it'd be best if we went to Uriel first, since he's closest," Gabriel said as they made their way out of the apartment. "Then we'll go asking for those reports and then head to Metatron."

As Raphael readily agreed to this, they didn't have to go far. As soon as they stepped out of the front door, they turned right, then walked a bit and stopped in front of Uriel's door. The archangels all lived along the same corridor, well away from the usual hassle of the city.

Just as Raphael raised his hand to knock, however, Gabriel grasped his hand. "Listen," the brunet archangel whispered. And Raphael did. His ears caught the faint sound of somebody singing.

Glancing at each other, the two then proceeded to very, very quietly miracle Uriel's door open. And, as they stepped inside the darkhaired archangel's apartment, the singing only got louder.

Raphael's eyes widened. "What in all of Heaven?" he breathed. "It can't be..."

Being careful to stay absolutely silent, they slowly rounded the corner. And there, in front of them, was the source of the absolutely heavenly sounds -- a sight they had never thought they'd see.

Uriel. Singing. And apparently enjoying it a great deal, too

Glancing at Gabriel, Raphael felt a grin spreading on his face. The brunet grinned back. This would have been perfect material for some blackmailing and taunting -- had angels gone for that. As they didn't, however, both could still think of some definitely enjoyable usage to their discovery.

Slowly backing out of the apartment, they then made sure to knock very loudly. The faint sounds that reached their ears through the door ceased abruptly, and a moment later Uriel threw the door open, looking as dark as always. "What do you two want now?" he spat angrily.

However, despite their colleague's obviously foul mood, neither Gabriel nor Raphael could help but grin as they explained exactly what they had come to see him for.

* * *

** Next chapter:**

It's Michael's turn to make an appearance. Crowley could really live without it, though.


	7. Demonic Discussions

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: Writing Raphael/Gabriel in last chapter was pretty fun. I think I might do some more of that in the future... Along with some more Crowley/Aziraphale, of course.

Oh, and by the way, Michael most probably won't be involved with anybody in this fic. However, if I ever write yet another GO fic, I might create more supernatural couples... Just because.  


* * *

Chapter 7:

Demonic Discussions

* * *

Michael brought his sword down, effectively destroying the demon's corporeal form and severely damaging its true being. The evil creature screamed as it was pulled back to its original plane of existence. 

The archangel now glanced around, noticing that he and his companions were surrounded by rapidly rotting demon corpses. "Canael!" he shouted at one of his soldiers. "Did we get them all?"

"Afraid not, sir," the cherub replied. "The original group was indeed taken care of, but we got a sighting of a Hellbeast nearby. However, being too involved in the battle, we failed to catch it as it ran away."

Michael's eyes flashed, his hand freezing with his sword halfway in its sheath. "Then what are you waiting for?" he spat, drawing his sword again and setting it on fire. "We have to catch it before it manages to cause any damage! Which direction did the beast go to?" he demanded.

Inwardly the archangel was more worried than angry, though. The demons they had fought were nothing unusual. Every year there were some who decided to use Heaven's Christmas preparations on their advantage, thinking that all angels were too preoccupied to notice some extra mischief on Earth. However, Hellbeasts didn't wander up by themselves. Their only reason of existence was killing angels, and they were always sent up by someone -- the beasts themselves were hardly more intelligent than any savage animal. However, the beast had avoided them, which meant that it was after somebody else. And, at the moment, aside from guardian angels who couldn't be damaged by even the strongest Hellbeasts, Michael and his soldiers were the only angels on Earth -- except for one. A very particular one.

Michael narrowed his eyes in thought while he heard Canael barking orders. Hellbeasts were thankfully very rare, but very destructive as well. Even with a group of well-trained cherubim and seraphim soldiers, like the ones he was leading at the moment, it would be hard to take down one of them.

Suddenly he thought of something. Hellbeasts were so deadly to angels because of their ability to spit hellfire, the demonic version of divine fire. However, aside from that, they were pretty much defenceless. Quick and nimble despite their size, they were hard to kill by angelic forces, as it wasn't hard to them to keep angels far enough to keep them from hitting. However, hellfire did not damage creatures of demonic origin... And a demon's claws would definitely hurt a Hellbeast.

It was a random thought, and a very slim possibility, but it was probably their best one. After all, there _was_ one demon who definitely had a reason to kill this hellbeast. Maybe they could get rid of the monster with no casualties or even injuries. At the very least it was worth a try.

"Canael, you and the others shall follow the beast's trail," he ordered sharply. "I shall go to fetch some reinforcements." This got him a couple of wondering glances -- after all, with the Heavenly warriors they already had there, there was no point in getting any more -- but nobody questioned him. They had learned an eternity ago that when Michael ordered, he was to be obeyed without hesitation.

Concentrating for a second, Michael transferred himself to a certain place -- an ability only the highest angels had -- and then, after making sure he was still invisible, rose to his wings. He had a demon to find.

* * *

Crowley was having fun. 

Most people wouldn't have agreed with his idea of fun, but he did, and that was all that mattered. Walking among the people busy with their Christmas shopping, all stressed and annoyed and about ready to kill whoever had created some particularly irritating Christmas carol, causing mischief was easy. In fact, his job was easiest just before Christmas, as impossible as that may sound. Especially since Aziraphale was busy with his own preparations and thus didn't have the time to thwart him at all. Ah, life was good.

Of course, Crowley didn't like Christmas itself at all. After all the hassle and hostile atmosphere, the holiday of peace was pure suffering to a demon. It wasn't that all humans were gentle and kind in their Christmas cheer, no, far from that. However, even if all humans had been ready to break against all the commandments at once and then some, he couldn't have exploited that. During Christmas, he was stuck.

He could understand where the tradition came from, of course. However, he wished they hadn't actually done anything about it. With all the Host gathered to sing to praise their Lord, being on Earth was pretty damn painful to any demon unlucky enough to reside there at the time. Namely, to Crowley.

Of course, it wasn't that he'd spent that particular night withering away in some hole and wishing that his pain would end, no. By the time the first Christmas came around, he had already got pretty much used to Aziraphale's angelic aura, at least enough so as not to be harmed by it. And, whenever he was in the circle of that aura, he was protected from the holiness of the angel choirs. Even before the Arrangement Aziraphale had been more than happy to provide him with shelter for the Christmas night in exchange for a promise not to do any tempting the following day. Crowley actually always kept his word, too. Not only did he like to consider himself a demon of his word, but he also knew that were he to break the contract, he would not get shelter the following year. Aziraphale might be an angel, good and all, but he wasn't that naive, not after all the millennia they'd spent with the humanity. And Crowley most certainly hadn't wanted to explain to his bosses why he couldn't survive the Christmas night _this_ time when he could before. Not to mention that while temporary, the death of his human form was painful. Very much so, at times.

Making a mother of three decide to go for a trip to Hawaii and leave her husband to deal with the children and a mother-in-law for the holidays, Crowley almost wanted to start to whistle. He most probably would have, had he not been suddenly hit with an incredible wave of nausea. Not to mention headache. And the terrible, dreadful feeling of a non-Aziraphale angel being somewhere nearby. A _powerful_ angel.

Forcing himself not to collapse in the middle of the street, he glanced to his left, where the sensations seemed to be coming from. There stood a tall man, his blond hair pulled back on a ponytail. Dressed wholly in black, he was radiating an aura of danger -- but not _evil_ danger. No, it was good danger, and that was about a thousand times worse -- especially when Crowley was concerned.

"What do you want of me?" he spat, fighting against the urge to just curl up and wither in pain. The angel's aura was definitely on full force. Most probably on purpose. "Do you want to fight in the middle of the street? Tsk, tsk, angel. I never would have expected that from you -- well, not even from you."

"Stop that, Demon," Michael said coolly, his blue eyes icy. "I have no intention to harm you."

"Oh?" Crowley raised an eyebrow, uncaring about the humans who didn't even notice the two supernatural beings, merely went around them without paying any attention to it. "Shut down your bloody halo, then!"

"Ah, yes. My apologies." In an instant, the angel's aura dimmed to bearable levels, Crowley's willpower being the only thing that kept him from sighing in relief. "I was just smiting some demons."

"And wanted to brag to me about it?" asked Crowley bitingly. "Well, guess what? I don't care. Unless you do plan to attack me right here, we have nothing to discuss. If those idiots haven't learnt anything from all the previous years, it's definitely not my fault. So, go away and let me continue my walk."

"I shall not attack you, nor shall any of my forces," the archangel told him mildly, seemingly unfazed by his attitude. "We are under orders not to allow any harm to come to you unless you attack us first." Ignoring Crowley's surprised expression, "We do have something to discuss, though. It's about Aziraphale."

"What about him?" spat the demon, his eyes flashing behind his sunglasses. "He's not going to Fall, period. And as you're not allowed to hurt me, I guess that he's got a friend somewhere very far up there."

"Yes, he does," Michael admitted. "However, he now needs help -- your help."

"Why so?" Crowley again raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with him now? And why'd you know about it before me? After all, I generally do spend quite a lot more time with him than you do."

"He's in danger," the archangel said, his tone rather sharp by now. "While smiting the demons, we saw a hellbeast. However, it wasn't after us, and we're the only angels on Earth -- aside from Aziraphale."

Crowley had never been as pale as he now suddenly was. Nor did he recall ever being as scared.

* * *

** Next chapter:**

Aziraphale is still happily unaware of the growing threat.


	8. Happy Hellfire

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: And here's chapter 8 -- technically two and a half hours late. I apologize for this; I managed to somehow lost all my papers and thus couldn't write a single word at school today (or, as it technically was, yesterday).

Anyway, sorry, but there's not true fighting in this chapter. You'll see more than enough of fighting Crowley in the next chap, so look forward to it!

* * *

Chapter 8:

Happy Hellfire

* * *

Aziraphale smiled happily as he finished placing candles all around his apartment, which consisted of a few rooms above his bookshop. However, it was enough; it had a little kitchen, perfect when he wanted to cook, a small living room, a tiny study with a desk and a separate reading table, and a bedroom with a big, nice bed for nightly activities like sleep and Crowley. Now one part of decorating it for Christmas was over. His Christmas might not be going to be overly festive -- he did have to think of Crowley, too, the poor boy -- but at least his home would look nice. Candles, a yule tree, the whole thing. 

Thinking for a moment, though, the angel decided to go for a walk before he did anything else. If he went to the park to see how the ducks were faring with the rather cold feather he would probably be back home about the same time as Crowley, and they could then go to a restaurant together or something like that.

So, putting on his coat and a scarf, Aziraphale walked out of the bookshop, locking the door behind himself. It was rather cold, but he hardly even noticed that; the streets were full of people who were radiating more than enough warmth for an angel to feel comfortable with. Crowley, of course, was another matter; being a demon, the poor creature hated the cold. Why he didn't simply put on more clothes was beyond Aziraphale, but he assumed it had something to do with style. Well, he certainly could stick to his style and still stay warm. Although a demon probably needed more warmth -- and besides, their styles were rather different. Or, to be exact, from the opposite sides of the range of style. With backs turned.

Anyway, Aziraphale was rather warm as he finally arrived to St. James' park. As soon as he got to the edge of the pond the ducks raised their eyes at him expectantly. Smiling a bit, he started to throw them some bread crumps. It wasn't perhaps as fun alone as it was with Crowley, but close enough.

While feeding the ducks and at the same time making sure the poor creatures were warm -- like he did every single day during the winter months -- Aziraphale sank into his thoughts. His Christmas gift for Crowley was truly good. Love letters young Aziraphale had written for young Carowiel long before He had even thought about creating time -- now there was something the demon would surely like. And not least because of all the reasons they'd give to him to tease Aziraphale, not that the angel minded... much. True, Crowley could be _very_ annoying at times, but the results were usually good enough.

A very unangelic grin spread onto the angel's face. Oh, the results were often very good indeed.

Anyway, those old letters would truly make a great present. He'd have to find a way to thank Gabriel for keeping them safe -- and now bringing them to him. Of course he'd thanked the archangel about a thousand times already, but somehow that didn't seem to be enough. He was lucky to have such a wonderful older brother, and he wanted Gabriel to know exactly how wonderful he was, too.

Now, Aziraphale chuckled to himself. He was beginning to sound like a school kid with a big brother hero complex. Well, he was out of that age by now -- hopefully, that was.

Suddenly, however, he was torn out of his silent musings as he felt an evil aura approaching. It wasn't that of a usual demon, and it definitely had nothing to do with Crowley. It was --

Then the realization hit him. And with it the fear.

* * *

Two wondrous creatures flew over the busy people filling the streets. Both in their true forms -- wings out, armours on, Michael's armour being red and gold and Crowley's black and silver -- the two angels, one current and one fallen, hurried towards their destination. Well, more like Crowley hurried and Michael tagged along -- the demon could sense the Hellbeast by now and was determined to get to it before it got to Aziraphale. The archangel, who was only vaguely aware of the presence of the beast, followed him. 

"It seems to be heading for the St. James' park," Crowley commented as he flew past another corner fast enough to almost hit the wall, none of the people below seeing the falling feather that'd been knocked off. "I guess Aziraphale's decided to go for a walk -- those beasts always know where their target is, _always_. They never wander amiss. The question is, can we catch it first?"

Michael nodded levelly. "If everything goes right, we should soon come across my soldiers," he said. "Do not worry -- I'll be sure to inform them that you are absolutely off-limits. Besides, you're the only one who can fight the beast with practically no danger of being hurt, and probably also the only one who can get it killed before it manages to... hurt Aziraphale." The last part was said very quietly.

Crowley swallowed and nodded back, lost in disturbing thoughts. Demons and angels couldn't be destroyed completely; their essence was undying, much like the souls of humans. It was their soul, basically, though it was not of the same stock as those of mortal beings. However, their corporeal being could be destroyed rather easily, and holy -- or unholy, depending on which side you were on -- weapons and objects could also demolish their true form. Corporeal bodies you could always get more, even though the process was significantly slowed down by bureaucracy; that was not what Crowley was worried about. The reason for his worry was the fact that of all things unholy hellfire was probably the most dangerous one to an angel's true form. One proper breath from the beast, and Aziraphale's corporeal and angelic body would both be in ashes. True, the true form would grow back by time, giving the angel's essence shape and form. However, both the destruction and the recreation were extremely painful, and the process of a completely destroyed true form growing back might last for months. Only after that could a corporeal form be again given to the angel (or the demon, of course, if they were seriously hurt by something holy).

So, although reversible by time, it was all far too painful and difficult. And it was definitely something Crowley would use all his might to prevent Aziraphale from ever experiencing.

Therefore, the nearer to the park and his angel they came, the more agitated the demon became. He now could clearly sense Aziraphale's presence as well; the angel and the Hellbeast were now dangerously close. Mighty wings beating the air he tried to fly faster, harder, _nearer_...

And then, just as he got sight of the park, the archangel following him receiving not another thought from him, he heard a scream. A scream that made the blood in his veins freeze but no human could hear.

And, at that moment, he saw _his_ angel being engulfed in a cloud of hottest, brightest hellfire.

* * *

** Next chapter:**

Crowley attacks the Hellbeast. Azi's really hurt. Angels watch.


	9. Dangerously Damaged

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: Sorry for the little cliffhanger in the last chapter. I'd like to say that it's not going to happen again, but as I refuse to lie, alas, I must stay silent.

So, now you'll get some battlemode!Crowley and some insight on Michael's view of Aziraphale (and Crowley, too, a bit.)

* * *

Chapter 9:

Dangerously Damaged

* * *

Michael froze momentarily as he saw Aziraphale being enveloped in the blazing flames of hellfire. Crowley, however, did not hesitate; the demon immediately rushed forward to where the badly injured angel now lay. Fangs emerged and claws flashed as the demon dove from the sky, reaching for his lover under the Hellbeast's fiery gaze. Another flame erupted but was blocked by the shiny obsidian wings. Untouched by hellfire due to his demonic blood, Crowley now shielded with his lover with his own body. 

Carrying Aziraphale away from danger, Crowley cared little for the roaring fire. However, although he was indeed not hurt by hellfire, being of demonic stock himself, he was indeed brought down from his flight as the beast used its secondary weapon, striking with its fierce claws. Even as he fell, turning around to face the monster, Crowley carefully kept himself between Aziraphale and the Hellbeast.

Michael watched this with morbid fascination. He was about to go to aid, but was stopped by a fierce glare saying clearly, 'This is _my_ battle, so fuck off.' Therefore he forced himself to stay back, worried for Aziraphale. The cherub-ranked-principality had been extremely badly hurt from what he'd seen.

"Sir!" he suddenly heard a voice behind himself. As he turned around, he saw Canael and the other soldiers. "Why aren't you fighting, if I may ask, Sir?" the angel asked warily from his superior.

Glancing back at the ongoing fight -- right that moment Crowley sliced the beast with his claws -- the Warrior Prince of Heaven shook his head. "We'll stay out of this fight. Somebody who has more both right and ability for this battle is already facing the beast, as you can see."

Turning to watch the battle as well, Canael then gasped in surprise. "But -- but that's a demon!" he exclaimed. The others were shocked as well, some even drawing their swords.

However, a sharp command from Michael stopped them. "This demon, going by the name Crowley, is not to be harmed in any way," he announced, his azure blue eyes blazing warningly. "Our Lord himself has ordered that this demon shall be left untouched unless he is initiating an attack. He is not eager to face the Host in a battle, and he's also very dear to one of his servants."

This silenced the angels, although most of them still seemed wary. A couple of angels concentrating on keeping humans away, the rest now simply stood and watched the demonic battle.

At last Crowley managed to knock the beast back far enough to turn, take Aziraphale's unmoving, burned form into his arms, and fly for it. Reaching the angels, he carefully laid his precious burden onto Michael's arms. Then he turned towards the nearest angel and, without any warning, reached out his hand and grasped the hilt of the cherub's sword. The angels were too surprised and shocked to react before the demon had already drawn the sword from its sheath. Rising it, Crowley simply glared at it, thus lighting it with glittering silver flames. Then he flew back to face the now quickly approaching Hellbeast.

"Sir?" asked Canael, bewildered. "Sir, what shall we do now? He took one of our swords!"

"You stand back," said Michael coolly, letting his gaze wander between Crowley and Aziraphale's battered form. "You stand back, watch, and learn." As a couple of angels looked questioning, even doubtful, he snapped, "Do as you're told! Back in Heaven, in times before the Fall, this demon -- known back then by the name Carowiel -- was one of the best swordsmen among the Host. In fact, he was pretty much unrivalled except for myself, and I'm not too proud to admit that even that wasn't by far. Every one of you has certainly much to learn from him, _even_ if he is a demon nowadays." While speaking, he subconsciously rearranged the angel in his arms into a better position. Every glance he took at Aziraphale hurt him deeply.

Michael still remembered the time when Aziraphale had been a mere child among angels. Gabriel had loved taking his little brother everywhere with him. Even back then Michael had seen the little angel's potential, and he hadn't been disappointed; the little cherub had grown up to be one of his warriors, right up there with Carowiel and others of his skill. The archangel had been genuinely disappointed when Aziraphale had been sent down to Earth, although he would have never tried to question any commands from Him.

Those memories of a tiny angel child clutching on the hem of Gabriel's robes and later an eager and very talented warrior now brought only pain as he looked at Aziraphale now. The poor angel's corporeal form had been completely destroyed by hellfire, and even his ethereal form seemed to be on the verge of collapsing. There were no wings to speak of left, a few burned feathers the only thing remaining of them. The rest of the ethereal body was burned, scorched, and at some places even melted. At places it was thin enough for the light of Aziraphale's essence shine right through the angel's flesh without being transferred into his halo. To put it simply, Aziraphale was about as close to dead as an angel could be.

A silent sigh escaped Michael's lips. By this time Aziraphale probably could be saved, should somebody skilled enough in healing come nearby -- meaning Raphael. However, reaching the Archangel of Healing in time was very doubtful. Most probably the poor angel would lose his ethereal body entirely within a very short time, and after that, it would take months to recover. In fact, even this pitiful condition was a testament to Aziraphale's true power -- a mere principality would have been mere ashes and essence right away.

A cry of the beast drew his attention back to the still ongoing battle. He hadn't been lying to his men when he told them they had much to learn from the fallen angel. Despite the fact that he most probably hadn't used a sword in ages, Crowley still moved with the old grace and skill that'd had every angel in all of Heaven adore him. Even Uriel had grudgingly admitted that Carowiel had potential. And now Michael saw it all again, a hint of pride rising in his heart at the thought that he had taught this great warrior.

The beast charged, but Crowley was prepared. Raising the silvery-flamed sword, the demon jumped aside, then hit the creature as it couldn't turn back towards him in time. By the time the beast -- now roaring with fury, flames of hellfire escaping with each breath -- had turned its massive body to face the demon again, Crowley was on his wings, teasing the monster from above. There was a frightening look on the demon's face, a mix of worry and fear for his angelic lover and infinite fury at the creature that had hurt him. The snakelike eyes were flashing golden, the slit pupils almost round, trying to take in every little thing there was to see. And, rising the sword again, the fallen angel then dove from the sky right towards the beast. Slowed down by previous injuries -- all inflicted by the still unharmed demon -- the Hellbeast couldn't get out of the way in time. Raising its paw in a futile attempt to defend itself, it then fell prey to the furious demon's sword. Crowley hit exactly the right place, the deadly weapon sinking between the plates of armour covering the monster's neck, its most vulnerable place. The sword sank into soft flesh, the fire flaring high one last time, the divinely sharp blade neatly cutting the beastly head apart from the body.

For a moment everything stood still. A kind of surprised expression still on its face, the Hellbeast's head rolled a bit further as the rest of the body collapsed. All angels just stood, stunned, watching the very quiet demon, waiting him to do something. And Crowley, he just stood there, his eyes directed down at the monster he'd just slain, almost every part of his body covered with back demon blood.

Then the fire of the sword died down, and the blood disappeared from Crowley's body, leaving his dark armour just as spotless as it had been before. Not paying another thought to his fallen opponent, the demon hurried towards the angels and especially Michael, who still was holding Aziraphale in his arms. Carelessly tossing the sword to the ground, from where its rightful owner quickly picked it up, the demon reached his arms towards Michael's precious burden. The archangel handed the angel over without any hesitation.

Glancing down at the precious load in his arms, Crowley then raised his eyes at Michael. By now they almost resembled human -- or angelic -- eyes, except for their golden colour. "You have to heal him," the demon demanded quietly. "He's not going to make it like this. I'd only hurt him more if I tried to heal injuries caused by hellfire. You're bloody angels, now fucking do a good deed and heal him!"

However, Michael merely shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do," he said quietly. "None of us has the skills needed to stop his body being destroyed completely. As you can see, there's little left -- not even as much as when you brought him to me. Probably the only one who could now save him is Raphael, and by the time we'll reach him, it'll be too late. It's for the best just to let him go, and not try to cling onto him," he then advised gently. "He'll recover by time, and as soon as he's whole again, he'll get a new corporeal form -- it's a standard prodecure to give hellfire victims a new one as soon as they're well enough to use it again. Until then, all you can do -- all _we_ can do -- is to wait."

"No!" shouted the demon, fury flashing in his eyes. "I won't allow that to happen! I'm definitely not going to just walk around on Earth for whoever knows _how_ long, knowing that at the same time Aziraphale's in extreme pain somewhere Up There and I can't do a bloody thing about it!" As Michael just shook his head sadly, the other angels watching silently, Crowley then raised his face towards the sky. "You! Up there!" he shouted. "I know You can fucking hear me, so listen up! You can't let this happen to Aziraphale; you're supposed to be good and merciful and all that, right? So fucking send down somebody who can heal him and fast, or I swear I'll come Up There and bloody tear the whole fucking Golden City down!"

However, there was no answer -- not that anybody was surprised, Crowley least of all. After all, very few of even His beloved humans got a true answer to their prayers, and this disrespectful plea -- for it definitely couldn't be counted as a prayer -- came from a demon. Of course nobody answered.

After a moment of silence, the demon simply fell onto his knees, the now quickly fading angel still held securely in his arms. "He'll die," Crowley whispered, his head now lowered, his eyes locked at the rather disfigured face of his lover. "He can't die... Somebody just _help_ him... please..."

However, none of the angels could do anything to help the distraught creature.

* * *

** Next chapter:**

Aziraphale's practically dead. Michael realizes something surprising (no, it's nothing that might help save Aziraphale), and later Raphael and Gabriel talk about the attack on Gabriel's dear younger brother.


	10. Healing Hurts

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: You didn't really think I'd let Aziraphale suffer too much, did you?

* * *

Chapter 10:

Healing Hurts

* * *

Suddenly they heard a rather cheerful voice behind them. "My, my, what is the problem here?" asked Gabriel brightly, looking from one angel to another. "You look like somebody had died!" 

"Fuck off," Crowley hissed, his eyes blazing fiercely as he clutched Aziraphale to his chest. "I thought you angels' job was to help those in need, not taunt them!"

"What?" It seemed that it wasn't until now that Gabriel noticed the badly injured angel. "Oh, no!" he exclaimed, rushing forward. "What's happened to him? Who did this?" His blue eyes flashed angrily as he again glanced at the angels, demanding for an answer about his little brother's poor condition.

"A Hellbeast," Michael said levelly, forcing himself to face his fellow archangel's fierce gaze. "And before you can ask, yes, it's been taken care of. Crowley here pretty much slaughtered it."

"So that is why I was called here," another voice joined the discussion. Everybody looked towards the source of the voice, and then, everyone but Gabriel froze in shock. Seemingly not noticing or not caring about their surprise, Raphael walked nearer to the one angel in dire need of healing.

"What do you mean, called?" asked Michael, rising a questioning eyebrow. "Whoever called you here, and how? Sure, I would have called for you, but I knew I couldn't find you in time."

"Why, our dear demon here, of course," Raphael replied brightly as he knelt in front of Crowley and his unconscious load. "And before you can ask, yes, that whisper of his was indeed counted as a prayer -- the part with the 'please.' I definitely couldn't have stayed away; if a demon is desperate enough to pray, well, they should at least get an answer for their effort, shouldn't they?"

"Shut up and do what you're supposed to," snapped the demon, apparently still too worried and fearful to even appear embarrassed by the fact that his whisper had been taken as a prayer. Thrusting Aziraphale towards the Angel of Healing, he then stared at Raphael, waiting for him to start his work.

With a tiny smile the archangel did so. Placing his hands over Aziraphale's burned form, he then closed his eyes in concentration, a bright light enveloping both his hands and the lower angel's body. The others all watched, the warrior angels in fascination, as they'd never seen Raphael heal before, Michael with just a tiny bit of wonder, Gabriel with a fond smile, and Crowley in extreme concentration. Under their watchful eyes burned flesh was formed anew, heavenly light wiping away any traces of the hellfire, wounds closing and burns fading. And finally Aziraphale lay there, his angelic body healed, not one feather missing from his newly formed wings. He was still not awake, but sleeping rather than unconscious.

"Well, that's it," Raphael said, standing up and wiping a bit of sweat from his brow. "He'll probably sleep for a couple of days, but after that, he should be fine." Smiling a bit at Crowley, he said, "Take good care of him during his recovery. I'll be very displeased if you let my work go to waste."

Crowley didn't comment, just nodded a bit, his eyes fixed at the peaceful face of his sleeping lover. He didn't notice as Gabriel stepped forward to place a hand on Raphael's arm and was waved away, nor did he notice as the brunet archangel walked nearer. It wasn't until Gabriel stopped beside him that he looked up. "Stand up," Gabriel said with a gentle smile. "I'll take both you and my dear brother to his shop."

The demon seemingly didn't even think about protesting. Instead, he stood up with Aziraphale still in his arms, allowing the archangel to grasp his shoulders. A second later, all three disappeared.

For a moment everybody was silent. Then, however, Michael spoke. "Go back to Heaven," he ordered his warriors. "Raphael, if you only could, please stay back for a while. I have something to discuss with you." Not questioning his orders, the warrior angels all spread their wings, preparing to fly Heaven. The two archangels were left alone, for a moment both staying silent.

Once he was sure nobody else was in the hearing range, Michael glanced at his friend. "You okay?"

"Oh, yes," Raphael replied, "just a tad tired. The damage was truly horrible. At the moment, I think the one who's worst off is Crowley. He appears to be somewhat immune to Aziraphale's aura, but the light of our dear angel's essence leaking right into him most definitely did some damage, not to mention my aura during healing. Hopefully Gabriel will have the good sense to order him to rest as well."

"Doubtlessly," muttered Michael. Then he walked towards the corpse of the Hellbeast, beckoning the other archangel to follow him. Raphael did so. Once they reached the beast's side, Michael reached out a hand to point at a wound at its side. "Here, look carefully. What do you see -- and what caused it?"

Raphael leant forward. His eyes widened as he inspected the wound. "My, my," he murmured. "The wound's edges have been burned with divine fire. But didn't you say that Crowley killed it?"

"Yes, I indeed said so, because he was the one to do it," Michael replied levelly. "He was also the one to inflict these wounds, with a sword nicked from one of my soldiers -- no doubt he burned his hands with that at the very least. However, when he put his sword on fire, something strange happened." He made a little pause, then continued, "I don't think any of the soldiers noticed; they were too stunned by his 'borrowing' and then the battle. However, the fire wasn't black, like hellfire... it was silver."

"Indeed," murmured the redhead, nodding slightly as he continued his inspection of the beast's wound and its burned edges. "So you suspect that his fire was half divine? Couldn't it be because of the sword?"

"The origin of the sword has nothing to do with the nature of the fire," the Warrior Prince replied. "I've seen an angel taking a sword fallen from a demon in a battle. Although he did burn his hands at it, the fire on the sword was wholly divine. Therefore, I have a good reason to believe that Gabriel was indeed right."

"You mean, Crowley might actually be capable of Rising?" asked Raphael with a little smile.

Now, a smirk crossed the blond's face. "My dear," he said in perfect mimicry of Gabriel's voice, "he's not just capable of it... He's already halfway there."

"Oh," said Raphael, and then, "oh." Then he said, "We shouldn't mention this to anyone, though. Even if he truly is something purer than a demon, it would be all too easy to knock him back down. And we don't want that, now do we?" He turned towards his fellow archangel with a questioning expression.

"No, we don't," Michael replied, then made a complicated gesture to get rid of the beast's corpse. He then made sure no sign of demon blood remained on his shining armour. "You can tell your lover, though," he then added, inwardly smirking at Raphael's expression. "It's not like you could keep it from him anyway."

Raphael shook his head, smiling. "Is there anything you don't know, my friend?" he asked lightly.

Michael just snorted at that. "When your auras reek of sex and each other almost every single time you two have had a moment of time together? Not very likely to stay a secret from me, Raphael. Do not worry, though," he added then. "I'm certain Uriel doesn't even recognize the changes in your auras, nor do any of the lower angels. Your little secret is safe with me." He winked a bit, then disappeared.

With a slight chuckle, Raphael again shook his head in amusement. Then he, too, left for Heaven.

* * *

"Now, make sure that you get enough rest," Gabriel said gently as he watched Crowley carefully laying Aziraphale on the angel's bed. "And don't even try to tell me that you're fine. You may be unharmed by Aziraphale's aura in general, but you were touched by his pure essence, and that's bound to damage you -- never mind that you were in direct touch with Raphael's aura. You're _not_ fine, so now rest." 

"Or what?" asked the demon, raising an eyebrow. "You'll shake a finger at me?"

"Oh, no," the archangel replied levelly. "If you don't rest, you'll most probably collapse in front of Aziraphale. And he'll be very upset to find out that you were so badly damaged because of him."

For a moment Crowley just stared at him. Then, the demon smirked. "I definitely see where Aziraphale gets his little inner bastard from," he said approvingly. "Who'd known angels could be so devious?"

"My, my, such accusations," the archangel replied brightly. "Now, go to sleep, my dear demon. When my brother wakes up at last, he'll most definitely need some comfort from you." Then, he was away.

For a moment Crowley still looked at the empty space previously occupied by an archangel. Then he chuckled slightly, shook his head, and lay down next to his lover. Wrapping an arm securely around Aziraphale's waist, he settled to sleep, one of his wings extended over them both.

Soon the room was absolutely silent.

* * *

"Raphael!" Gabriel called out as he walked into his -- well, their -- apartment. "Are you here, love?" 

"I'm here," said a quiet voice, and he turned to see the red-haired archangel from the next room. "You did tell Crowley to go to sleep, didn't you? The poor demon was quite badly off."

"Yes, I did," Gabriel said, then added sternly, "and I'll continue by telling you the same thing. You look absolutely dreadful, my dear." He stepped forward to wipe a stray lock of hair from the other angel's face.

"Why, love you too, Gabriel." Raphael smiled at him weakly. "Don't worry, I most certainly am going to go to sleep. Healing Aziraphale took a lot out of me; he was as good as dead, the poor dear."

"Oh, yes. I still haven't even thanked you for healing my brother," the other archangel said, starting to lead his lover towards their shared bedroom. "You saved him from a lot of pain."

"Don't thank me. I only did what I had to," replied the angelic healer. "Of course, had I known about the situation, I would have healed him, for Aziraphale himself, if not otherwise. I still do remember how he used to tug at my wings." A fond smile rose to his lips. "However, what brought me -- and, consequently, you -- there was Crowley's little prayer. And answering prayers is an angel's duty -- especially if it's such a rare call like this one. I don't think any demon has ever before uttered anything to be counted as a prayer."

"Well, Crowley is rather special," Gabriel commented. "Which is only a good thing, mind you."

"Oh, and that reminds me," Raphael continued, not resisting as he was gently pushed onto the bed. "Michael told me he had noticed something strange as Crowley battled the Hellbeast." As Gabriel looked at him questioningly, he continued, "The demon took a sword from one of the angels... and set it on divine fire."

"Really?" Gabriel's eyes widened in surprise. Then a broad smile lit up his features. "Why, that is absolutely wonderful. Apparently my dear brother has indeed been a very good influence on his lover."

"Apparently, yes." The redhead's eyes started to slide closed. "I am truly glad for him..."

Now, Gabriel shook his head. Raphael had apparently fallen asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. Gently arranging his lover's wings so that he wouldn't be uncomfortable, he then spread a soft blanket over the sleeping creature. With a small kiss onto the pale forehead, he left, careful to be silent.

The smile remained on his face for the rest of the day.

* * *

** Next chapter:**

Rumours start to spread through the Heaven. Certain lower angels hear them as well.


	11. Rumoured Results

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: This chapter shall contain some lower angel scheming (we finally find out their rather silly names, woohoo!) and a tiny bit of Raphael/Gabriel.

BTW, **myotismon13**, you don't happen to go around with the same name at LiveJournal, do you? Because if not, I just stumbled over your namesake at _Mad Prophets_... (It's going to be fun playing Michael in a GO RPG, though it's certainly also going to be strange to play Michael/Raphael... Never mind seeing Gabriel with Beliel...)

* * *

Chapter 11:

Rumoured Results

* * *

And rumours started flying around the Heaven. 

Like rumours often do, they took many shapes and forms on their way from one angel to another. Despite the fact that angels don't lie -- well, not too often, anyway -- some exaggerrated about the details involved, some added their own assumptions that _must_ be true to the story, and some just plain misunderstood anything. In the end the first ones to tell these rumours wouldn't have recognized them.

However, the general idea was all too clear. And the idea, well, it was a little story about a demon and an angel. A Demon and an angel who loved each other, to be exact. And the demon battled a hellish beast to save his angelic lover, and then prayed to call an archangel to heal the said lover's injuries. This story was told with emotions ranging from horrified fascination to awed disgust, leaning more to fascination wherever this story was told containing the detail that they were to be left in peace as ordered by Him.

Unfortunately to everyone involved, the version that reached the ears of certain lower angels did not contain this crucial little detail. Therefore their reaction was more doubtful than anything else.

"Perhaps we should reconsider our plan?" asked one in slight hesitation. "If it is true that Raphael himself healed the angel, and that not even Michael tried to smite the demon, it might not be our place to do anything. Surely the archangels would have done something if the situation was so despicable."

"But you heard them earlier!" another exclaimed. "Uriel did certainly not approve of the situation. I do not know why Michael would tell him to allow it to continue, but it is clear that this is not acceptable. Of course Raphael healed the angel; after all, the angel Aziraphale has committed no sin in loving, the only one sinning being the demon who seduced him in such a horrendous way. Had the angel sinned, he would have Fallen. It is not our job to judge him -- but it is indeed our task to stop him from Falling because of the demon!"

"But Anael," the third one spoke, addressing the second one, "this demon slew a fullgrown Hellbeast, so he must be powerful. Are you sure we are capable of destroying him? The rumours have that he managed to set a sword on unholy fire. Only the cherubim and seraphim are able to inflict fire on a sword, and this Crowley must be a demonic equivalent of the higher angels. I do not think we should try to face a demon prince in a battle, even if there are three of us; surely we would be all slain."

"That's not a problem, Lyriel," the one called Anael responded. "After all, all demons are vulnerable to holy powers, no matter how powerful they are. Surely we'll find some holy objects to face him with, and blessing water shouldn't be too had. We'll destroy him, just you see."

"I still have a bad feeling about this," the first angel muttered. "Maybe we really shouldn't..."

"Oh, don't be chickening out on me now, Unsurel!" exclaimed Anael. "If the higher-ups don't understand what needs to be done, well, the more reason for us to do it. Our agreement still stands!"

And so, the three angels did not abandon their plans despite the rumours flying wild.

* * *

Raphael slowly opened his eyes. The headache that had started just before his falling asleep had returned, although it wasn't as intense as before. Sighing, he grimaced, knowing that he couldn't just will it away. It wasn't a physical reaction but rather a spiritual one, a result of using so much of his power at a time. He hadn't had to do such amount of healing for a long time now; the rare times angels were hurt by hellfire nowadays they were dead before he got to them almost without exception. If it hadn't been for Crowley and the demon's desperate whisper, he wouldn't have even known about Aziraphale's injuries in time, leave alone been there to heal them. But Crowley had prayed, and Raphael had heard, and now he had a headache. At the worst times he'd healed a lot more without any problems, but even though the headache was annoying, he wouldn't have for a minute exchanged this time of relative peace for being too used to healing. Although he could have taken some more sleepiness any day. 

Just then he felt a cool hand gently brushing his forehead, and he forced his eyes to open. Looking up, he saw Gabriel sitting on the edge of the bed, a beaming smile on the other archangel's face.

"You're awake, I see," said Gabriel, his melodic voice soothing Raphael's headache a bit. "That is good. You've slept almost a whole day -- not that I blame you, of course. Nobody who saw Aziraphale's injuries could blame you for feeling exhausted." With a gentle smile, he added, "You did a wonderful job, love."

"Of course I did," Raphael muttered. "Whenever don't I?" He then sighed. "My head feels like it's about to explode, though. I much preferred the sleepiness as a symptom of power exhaustion."

"Oh, my poor dear." Now, the brunet archangel leant down to place a gentle kiss on his lover's forehead. Then he smiled down at Raphael. "There. Feeling any better now?"

"Actually... I do." Then, a rather mischievous smirk crossed Raphael's face, and the next thing Gabriel knew he was pulled down on top of the other archangel. Looking at his surprised lover, the red-haired celestial being continued, "You know, the headache won't go away... But perhaps between you and me we could find a way to keep me distracted enough not to notice it?"

A smile rose to Gabriel's lips once again. "Really, my dear," he murmured, "you appear to already have something in your mind." Then he used his lips for placing a kiss on those of his lover instead of smiling or speaking. Of course, Raphael wasn't about to argue.

* * *

** Next chapter:**

Some more C/A. Finally.


	12. Telling Tales

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: Okay, so here it is at last (yet again). This is rather short, for which I apologize, but I most certainly can't promise anything longer in the future -- my exams week (more like week and a half) is beginning tomorrow, and although I'll do my best to update, I make no promises about the length.

* * *

Chapter 12:

Telling Tales

* * *

Crowley opened his eyes a bit, only to shut them quickly again. It was bright. Far too bright, to be exact. Plus his hands hurt like he had just sticked them into holy water -- well, not as badly, considering that he still _had_ hands, but badly enough. For a moment he wondered what had caused it. 

Then he remembered and shot up on the bed, frantically looking for Aziraphale. The angel _had_ to be all right; if he wasn't, then Crowley wasn't sure that he'd do. Something extreme, most likely.

"Calm down, my dear," he then heard a soothing voice, and calmed instantly. Following these words was a hand, cool and soft, coming to rest on his shoulder. "What exactly happened?"

At that, Crowley sighed. "Well... How much do you remember?" he asked hesitantly.

"The last thing I remember is the Hellbeast attacking me," the angel replied, looking a bit confused and very curious. "What happened then? And why am I not somewhere in the Heaven recovering?"

"Well..." For a moment the demon pondered just how he should answer this one. Then, finally, he settled for the easiest way. Turning his hands around, he revealed his palms, the burn marks there, and looked up to Aziraphale. "As impossible as it sounds, Michael showed up," he started his tale. "He'd apparently been looking for me for a moment. They'd been fighting with some demons when they saw a Hellbeast -- one that clearly wasn't after them. Knowing that you were the only possible victim, the bloody archangel then sent his men after the beast and came to look for me himself."

A brief grimace crossed Crowley's face at this point. The mere thought of the archangel's presence was almost enough to bring the headache and nausea back. Fighting the feelings back, he continued the story.

"Anyway. He found me, told the situation, and we found the beast just in time to see you being surrounded in hellfire." Crowley closed his eyes for a moment, definitely not wanting to relive the pain of that moment. "So, I of course rushed forward to save you. By the time I finally managed to knock the beast aside for long enough to take you to safety, Michael's men had already returned, though none made a move to hurt me. It appears that they're all under orders to leave us be." Ignoring Aziraphale's surprised expression, he just continued. "Anyway, so I put you into Michael's arms, thinking that if anybody then he could keep you somewhat safe. Then I nicked a sword from one of the angels -- hence the burns on my hands -- and went to fight the beast. I cut it up, but by that time you were as good as dead. So, I ranted at Him, and then pleaded for somebody to save you. Apparently that qualified as a prayer, because the next thing any of us knew Gabriel and Raphael were there. Raphael healed you, Gabriel took us here, end of story."

"You -- you took an angel's sword?" asked Aziraphale in horrified fascination. "But -- but that's -- oh." For a moment the angel just sat there, seemingly not knowing what to say. Then, however, he sighed. "I still feel a bit weak," he muttered. "Perhaps I should rest some more."

"You do that," Crowley said. "As I said, you were practically dead back there. You're certainly entitled to some tiredness. Just rest as long as you want; I'll watch over you."

Now, a smile tickled Aziraphale's lips. "Thank you," he said. Then, in quite a spontaneous act, he leant forward and placed a soft kiss onto the surprised demon's lips. And then, before Crowley could even react properly, he lay back on the bed. "Good night," he muttered, already half asleep.

For a moment Crowley just stared down at the angel, murmuring something like "damned tease" under his breath. Then, however, the demon just smiled a bit. Stretching his wings back -- he was still in his true form, as Aziraphale's true form was too ethereal for his corporeal body to touch -- he laid himself beside his angel. Wrapping an arm around the slim waist, he then snuggled as close to the angels as their wings would allow, seeing that they were a bit on the way. Like sensing his intentions, Aziraphale muttered something in his sleep, then readjusted his wings to cover them both under a soft curtain of white feathers.

Crowley smiled a bit, pressing his face against the wonderful, slender neck in front of him, hugging Aziraphale close to himself. This was where he wanted to be, where he belonged -- in his beloved's arms.

A moment later, both supernatural beings had fallen into a healing sleep, all their griefs forgotten.

* * *

** Next chapter:**

Some more C/A, and possibly an archangelic appearance. (Anael, Lyriel, and Unsurel might show up, too. You never know, at least not until tomorrow.)


	13. Angelic Attention

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N:**myotismon13**, you don't happen to be RPing Raphael, do you? 'Cuz if you are, I'll have you know that Michael's very upset at the moment... and definitely not in the mood to go and 'play,' like Raphael so charmingly put it. Which of course will make it all the better when Raphael finally decides to try and make an effort. Which won't be happening any time soon, I suspect.

* * *

Chapter 13:

Angelic Attention  


* * *

This time Raphael woke up not to a headache but to the cheerful sound of somebody singing. A smile rose to his lips as he listened to Gabriel's voice flowing from the next room. There were many things he loved in the other angel, and Gabriel's sweet, melodic voice was most certainly one of them. No matter how tired, irritated, or distressed he was, the mere sound of his lover's voice was enough to soothe his nerves. 

A moment later the voice was followed by its owner. Gabriel smiled brightly at him. "Are you still feeling unwell?" he asked gently, walking to the side of the bed. "You do look better at least."

"I also feel pretty much better," Raphael replied with a lazy smirk. "Much thanks to you."

At that, Gabriel laughed. "Well, I may be as skilled in healing as you are," the brunet angel said with a hint of mischief in his voice, "but I do at least know how to ease your pains."

"So it does appear." Using all his angelic willpower to resist the urge to once again grab Gabriel and stay in the bed with him for an undefined amount of time, Raphael then looked at his lover questioningly. "So. What do we have to do today?" he asked, not really wanting to know but aware that he had to.

"Well, yet another practice of the main choir, as is to be expected, seeing as Christmas is the day after tomorrow," Gabriel told him. "Then some more paper work, and don't you give me that look, _I_ definitely didn't assign it, and not much else. Although I was thinking we could visit Aziraphale later today."

"What is this?" asked Raphael, flopping himself to his stomach. This felt much better for his wings, which were pretty messy after all the sleeping and other bed-involving activities he had indulged in during the past couple of days. "You haven't visited your brother for centuries, and now twice during a week? Never mind that you insist on taking me along. Not that I don't want to go, far be that from me, but what exactly is on your mind? A mutual meeting-the-family? The demon will probably be there, too, you know."

"Well, partly it is indeed a meeting-the-family, or at least what little family either I or Aziraphale have, which is mainly each other," Gabriel responded with a light smile. His expression then turning serious, he continued, "Mostly it is that I want to check up on him; he was pretty bad off back then. No matter how good job you did, he might have some problems, never mind Crowley. His hands were completely burned and he didn't seem to even notice, the poor boy. I truly hope he took my advice and went to sleep."

"Indeed." Raphael finally pushed himself upright, wishing his robes on. "Anything else I need to know?"

"Well... there are some rumours around the Heaven," Gabriel told him. "Mostly they are about Aziraphale and Crowley, usually without names, of course -- you wouldn't believe some of those stories! -- but they do mention you, too. Last thing I heard you practically not only dragged Aziraphale back from death, but also reformed his entire ethereal body and rearranged the ashes into his corporeal form. So, you'd better expect a fair amount of stares once we go out."

Now, Raphael groaned. He did _not_ enjoy being the centre of attention. When he was healing somebody, he usually was just that, but at least then he had his healing job to distract him from all the stares directed at him. Now everybody was bound to be staring at him. He was definitely not going to enjoy this.

Gabriel stepped to his side, a smile on his lips. Leaning forward, the brunet archangel murmured into the red-haired one's ear, "Try to stand it. I promise I'll make it up to you later."

Therefore, although not exactly cheerful as he exited the apartment beside his lover, Raphael was definitely not as gloomy as he had been just a moment earlier.

* * *

"And where do you think you're going?" asked Aziraphale, raising an eyebrow at Crowley. "I thought you were going to stay home today." He couldn't really help the warm sensation that spread through him at the mere thought of Crowley's home being their now mostly shared flat above the bookshop. It was rather true, though. Little by little the demon's possessions had started to drift to the angel's flat. Having never truly considered his own flat 'home,' rather just an accessory and a place to sleep at, Crowley was adjusting pretty well to the change. He even no more protested _too_ badly when Aziraphale was nice to his plants. As weird as it sounded, Aziraphale nowadays visited the flat Crowley still owned more often than before the demon had practically moved in with him. Well, those visits were mostly just tagging along when Crowley went to get yet another possession of his, but still. 

"Well, it has something to do with your Christmas present," replied Crowley, a smirk on his face. "Of course, if you don't _want_ anything, I can stay at home..." Seeing Aziraphale's startled expression, he laughed. "Don't worry, angel. I'll be back soon enough. I'll pick us some lunch on the way, okay?"

"Okay." Aziraphale now smiled, nodded, and let himself be kissed by the demon before Crowley left the shop. A moment later he found himself enjoying a hot cup of tea, working on a crossword puzzle. He was quickly getting used to his new corporeal form, which was pretty much the same as the old one except for being of a more slender build. Although Crowley had told that he loved Aziraphale regardless of his appearance, the angel had noticed something interesting in the demon's eyes when he'd first tried on the new body. At the moment he was seriously considering just a bit of cheating to stay in shape.

Suddenly his supernatural senses picked up a wave of angelic power nearby. It was not one of the archangels, and definitely not anybody whom he knew. At first he just ignored it -- after all, hadn't Crowley said that they were to be left in peace, as ordered by Him? -- but then a feeling of uneasiness began to spread within him. Something was definitely not right at the moment. Not at all.

Shrugging a bit, he tried to ignore the feeling, taking it as a product of overactive imagination. For a moment he was actually able to concentrate on his crossword. That is, until another sensation hit him.

This feeling came from the same source as the manifestation of angelic power, he knew that. However, this was not just the basic feeling of holy power. There was something... hostile... about this sensation.

And it was getting nearer to Crowley all the time.

**

* * *

Next chapter:**

Lower angels. Crowley. Holy water. 'Nuff said.


	14. Holy Homicide

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: Yup. Crowley gets doused with holy water. I'm evil like that.

...Of course, it serves him just right for what he did in _Neutral Omens_...

* * *

Chapter 14:

Holy Homicide

* * *

Crowley was feeling rather satisfied with himself as he walked down the street. It was only one more day till Christmas, people all around him were stressed and annoyed and about to snap, and he had a gift for his angel. Well, so he didn't have it with him right then and there, but he had it arranged, and was just on his way to go to get it. He was absolutely sure Aziraphale would love to have his sword back. 

For a moment his thoughts drifted back to his own sword. He'd had one, too, back then, almost identical to that of his angelic lover. However, when he had been cast out of Heaven, he'd left it behind. Who knew what had become of it now. Most probably it had been destroyed. A tiny part of him ached strangely at that thought, but he ignored it. He was a demon now; he had no use for a cherub's sword, even his own.

He'd been good with it, too. Almost as good as Michael, and that was definitely saying something. His brother had been rather proud of him, too; that was what he'd always been telling Cro -- Carowiel.

Of course, the said brother had definitely not been too proud of him when he had Fallen.

A tiny sigh escaped his lips at that thought. No, it wouldn't do any good to think of his brother. He'd probably already forgotten ever having a little brother called Carowiel, and if he did remember, he most likely wanted to forget. He'd always been so proud of his powerful, talented little brother. To see Carowiel Falling from grace must have been quite a blow to him.

Crowley shook his head, hoping to banish such thoughts from his mind. It would indeed do no good to think about his brother, who was long gone from him. It was better to concentrate on the matters at hand.

His hands were mostly healed by now, too. Aziraphale hadn't been able to heal him, as it would have only made the results of too much holiness worse, so his own healing powers had done it. By Christmas, he was sure, his hands would be just right again, with no sign of ever touching an angel's sword.

...Not that he regretted it, of course. There were few things in his life that he truly regretted, and taking that cherub's sword was definitely not one of those. After all, he had slain the Hellbeast with it; if he hadn't done that, it might have hurt Aziraphale even more. And the angel would have died for sure.

And he most certainly wouldn't have that.

Yes, he did love the angel. More so than he should have, probably. Demons in general weren't supposed to love. Well, of course they weren't meant to have free will, either, and he had that, too. Besides, he'd never been much of a sticker to rules. That was exactly what had made him a demon at the first place. His sense of irony certainly appreciated this situation, if nothing else.

His sense of supernatural picked up a touch of angelic power, and he frowned. It couldn't be Aziraphale, that he knew. A few lower angels, he identified the intruders a moment later; not even one principality among them, unless he was sorely mistaken. They wouldn't be more than annoyance even if they didn't know about the hands-off policy. He rather hoped they did know, though. He didn't have time for messing with them at the moment. After all, he had a gift to get for his angel.

Suddenly, his mind started to scream at him in alarm. Every single demonic sense he possessed was beeping in alert at some unidentifiable threat. Just then he sensed the angelic presence having come almost to his side -- or, rather, above. Looking up, he saw three flying angels almost right above him, all invisible to humans. One of the angels was carrying a rather suspicious-looking bucket.

Then, with a gleeful shout of, "Demon, begone!" the angel emptied the bucket.

Right at Crowley.

* * *

Gabriel frowned as he noticed Raphael staggering a bit. "Are you quite all right, love?" he asked gently. Noticing the tiredness the other was obviously trying to hide but didn't manage, he frowned even more. "You should have told me you weren't up to getting out of bed yet!" 

"Well, I was at the time," Raphael replied, smiling weakly. "However, it seems I still at least tire easily."

"Well, that's it. You're going back to bed right now," said Gabriel sternly. "And no buts. We can go to see Aziraphale and his dear demon after Christmas -- tomorrow we'll certainly have no time to."

"Oh, no," said Raphael, who knew that Gabriel really wanted to visit his brother before Christmas. "I'll take just a little nap and then I'll be as good as new. We'll go to see Aziraphale after that. Okay?"

"Well, if you say so," replied Gabriel, still looking a bit hesitant and worried. "Just go and take that nap now. I'll wake you in a couple of hours; that should leave us with more than enough time to visit Earth."

"That sounds like a perfect plan." Raphael flashed another tired smile. "I'm sorry, though, I really am."

"For what?" asked Gabriel, looking genuinely confused. Well, he probably was. Gabriel often was like that. "Now, let's get you to bed. You definitely need it right now."

Raphael was only too glad to obey.

**

* * *

**

**A/N:** Anybody want to guess just who's Crowley's big brother?**  
**

**Next chapter:**

Azi to the resque! ...Although he's a bit late, it seems.


	15. Church Chasing

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: This far, there have been six guesses as for Crowley's brother. Five of them have been correct. Seemingly you lot know me too well. Or you're just too good at guessing. Anyway, yes. It is Uriel. And yes, he is indeed bitter because he feels betrayed by his little brother.

Don't worry, they'll make up at some point.

* * *

Chapter 15:

Church Chasing

* * *

"Oww!" Crowley exclaimed. He didn't know what was wrong with the water the angels had thrown on him, but at least it hurt like Hell. And he knew what he was talking about. Of course, this seemed rather strange to him, especially as the water felt hot. He most certainly shouldn't be hurt by hot water -- if you wanted a bath Down Below, you usually had to wait until the water had cooled down enough to stay in liquid form -- and it couldn't be holy, either. If it had been, he would now be just a puddle on the ground. 

The angels seemed rather startled at this. "I knew it!" wailed one of them. "We can't destroy him, he's too strong! Now he'll come and kill us all and -- and do something _nasty_ to us!"

"Oh, shut up, Unsurel," spat another. "Something went wrong, but it won't go wrong again. Rest assured that we'll be taking down the vile beast!" He now turned to face Crowley. "Prepare for your demise, beast!" he bellowed, trying to be intimidating. "Soon you will no more be defiling the angel Aziraphale!"

Crowley raised an eyebrow. Sure, it had hurt, but there weren't even marks on his skin. If that strange water was all they had, they certainly wouldn't be taking him down. "You'll get trouble for that, kid," he said coolly. "You know, I could justify it as self-defence if I now decided to kill you all. Especially since your boss appears to have taken a liking on me, at least enough so to forbid harming me."

"Close your lying, deceiving mouth, you vile beast!" exclaimed a girly-looking angel. "Oh, my heart aches to hear your words. How dare you say such a thing? Such a -- a blasphemous lie!"

"Well, I'm a demon. Blasphemy is part of my job description," Crowley replied irritably. He was really getting annoyed with these kids, now. "Now move out of my way. For once, I am not lying, so you'd better run wailing to your higher-ups and confess it all on your own accord. Maybe they won't make you Fall. I sure do hope not -- they have absolutely no use for so pathetic beings Down There."

"How dare you!" exclaimed one of the angels -- the one who had downed the bucket at him. "How ever could we Fall for serving justice? We are angels, we're not capable of doing evil?"

"Well, how do you think demons came into being at the first place?" asked Crowley dryly. "It wasn't He who encouraged a third of the Host to rebel against him, you know. They did it by themselves."

"Shut up, demon!" wailed the girly angel. "We shall have your hellish hide, and be praised warriors!" And, at this, she drew out an object that immediately tugged at Crowley's aura. In threat.

His eyes widening, Crowley stared at the elaborate, obviously very powerful crucifix pointed at him. Deciding not to risk it, he turned around and started to run, hoping to soon leave the angels behind or at least get back to Aziraphale's shop. However, the angels were faster than he'd expected; they soon rounded him with their wings, all armed with crucifixes and various other holy objects. Desperate for escape, he saw a doorway in a little alley. Hoping to manage to hide, he slipped in.

Shutting the door, he sighed in relief. The angels' presence felt faded somehow. Still, he felt some holiness surrounding him. Strange, indeed... but perhaps it was just because of all those holy objects in vicinity.

"May I help you, my son?" asked a friendly voice behind him. Turning around, he saw an old man looking at him with a peaceful expression. One glance told him enough -- this was a man of the cloth. Another glance, this time around the space he was standing in, and he saw holy objects of every kind.

It wasn't until then that he realized that he had been chased into some kind of church.

* * *

Aziraphale hurried down the street. Crowley's presence in the back of his mind had somehow faded, and that was not a good thing. Definitely not a good thing. Then, however, the presence disappeared completely. And Aziraphale panicked, simple as that. 

Just then, however, he got close to the angelic presence he had sensed. Very close. Glancing up, he saw an angel hovering in the air. "Who are you?" he asked sharply. "And just what have you done to Crowley?"

"Fear not, angel Aziraphale," the angel -- who appeared feminine -- said. "We have indeed relieved you of the burden of that vile beast, who wrongly seduced you. The demon shall tempt you no more!"

"WHAT?" exclaimed Aziraphale, half in anger, half in fear. "What have you done to Crowley? And WHY?"

"But -- but he had seduced you, had he not?" asked the other angel, her eyes wide. "Surely you should be relieved to be free of his vile traps! Or perhaps the remains of his evil powers still do cling to you?"

"How dare you sssay that?" asked Aziraphale. It appeared he had spent entirely too much time in Crowley's company. "Of all the demons that exist, Crowley is furthest from evil! And besides, no angel is allowed to hurt him, as ordered by Him. If the archangels accept him, why wouldn't you?" Ignoring the lower angel's startled expression, he now growled, "What. Did. You. Do. To. Crowley!"

"Let go of her!" shouted a voice. Turning to look there, Aziraphale saw two more angels, both looking half angry, half self-satisfied. "She has not done a thing to harm you, angel Aziraphale."

Now, the principality had got quite enough. Abandoning his human form, he allowed his wings to grow out of his back. He heard his clothes ripping to allow the enormous feathery appendages through, but didn't care; that could always be fixed. Rosing to the air as well, he carefully calculated his place to hover just slightly over the three other angels, who by now were all gathered in one group. Allowing his aura to fill into its full potential -- and, it seemed for some reason, over even that, although he didn't understand how that was possible -- he directed a blazing glare at the lower angels. "What have you idiots done?"

"We -- we merely wanted to free you of the demon that had seduced you," said one of the angels, one that was apparently their leader. "I think that the holy objects we were all carrying created an energy field that consumed all of his demonic power. He's gone for good now -- or as close to it as we can achieve."

Aziraphale briefly closed his eyes as pain crashed through him. It couldn't be. Crowley couldn't be dead. But it had to be so -- after all, he no more felt Crowley's presence, did he? And these angels had no reason to lie. Well, so they did have, but if they had lied, the story would have been very much different.

"You idiots," he muttered, a couple of tears escaping his eyes. "You have just killed the only demon who actually could love. After he has recovered, spending all that time Down There, who knows what has happened to him?" The thought of an evil Crowley was even more painful than his former musings. He certainly didn't know how that could be, but it was true.

None of the three angels appeared to have anything to say.

**

* * *

Next chapter:**

Crowley in a church. Azi in agony. Angels in astonishment.


	16. Religious Recollections

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: I'm terribly sorry for not updating yesterday. In my defence, the first time I could really sit down and write was after 1 AM. After a few mostly sleepless nights because of my exams, I was so tired I couldn't even think straight, plus my asthma'd been acting up all evening. So, I made the selfish decision of not updating. Now, though, I'm giving you a long chapter to make up for that, plus today's chapter (which won't come until later tonight, though.)

* * *

Chapter 16:

Religious Recollections

* * *

Crowley just stared at the man, who was still looking at him kindly. "Err... I came in by accident," he said, now wildly glancing around. Yes, it was a church of some kind, it seemed; a room full of holy objects, and a priest in attendance. How he hadn't melted yet was anybody's guess. "I'll just be on my way, okay?" 

He was just about to flee, sweating with fear, when he heard the priest calling for him. "Do not leave yet, my son," he said. "Those angels are still awaiting outside." As Crowley blinked in confusion, the man smiled. "It would be impossible for me not to notice those angels," he said, "or the holy objects they are all carrying. And I also can sense that you are of the demonic breed. Have no fear, though," he said, a smile still on his lips. "If you are unharmed after this time, you won't be hurt even if you stay for a bit. The holy aura of my little chapel will shield you from any angelic detection."

"But -- how am I unharmed?" asked Crowley, bewildered. "I mean, this is a Christian church, in a way, at least. I should be just a puddle on the floor at the moment, if even that. What is protecting me?"

"I'd say it's mostly the remains of holiness clinging to you," the priest said calmly, seemingly not finding it unusual to stand in the middle of his tiny chapel and be talking with a demon. "Though what I can see of your aura, you appear to be more divine than demonic."

At that, Crowley sputtered. "Now, that's impossible!" he exclaimed. "I'm a fucking Fallen angel! Demons aren't divine. Of divine origin, yes, but we're not in any way divine. Where'd I gotten that much holiness? From the angels? It's not contagious, you know." Nervously, he added, "Is it?"

"Not in the way you fear your darkness is contagious, no," the priest replied. "Your angel is not in any danger of Falling because of you -- unless you tempt him, of course, though I doubt you would do that. However, while his presence does not directly inflict any divinity on you -- well, so it does, but it can't change your aura -- your own decisions and choices, made because of him, can do that. You are changing, Demon -- and you are changing for the better." The priest smiled broadly. "Definitely for the better."

Now, Crowley raised his eyebrows. Just how did this human know all that? And what did the man mean, he was mostly divine? If that were true, he would be an angel, right?

He felt very odd at that thought. What if he truly became an angel again? What would happen?

Well, for one, no angel would be coming after him because of his love for Aziraphale. And there would be no more contacts from Down Below -- that thought alone almost made him wish that he became an angel at the spot. However, he could no more cause any mischief; he'd have to be good and kind and all that jazz, not that he'd ever been the cruelest of demons to begin with. He didn't go in for true evil, just mischief, but he doubted that even that would be accepted if he was one of Heaven's agents.

And besides, if they were on the same side, would they be allowed to both stay positioned on Earth?

Well, maybe they would be. After all, He seemed to be in favour of them, at least enough so not to allow them be broken apart by rapid angels, although He seemed to have forgotten to inform all the angels.

He was shaken from his thoughts by the priest's voice. "To answer what you are probably wondering, I am His servant. He felt that you might need some guidance, and told me to talk to you." The man smiled a bit. "You know, were you to just regret and ask for forgiveness, you would be forgiven."

Now, Crowley snorted disbelievingly. Now, _that_ was a bit too much to believe. "Look, human, I am a demon," he said sharply. "I have claws and fangs, not that they show all the time. My wings are black. _Black_, not white. I may not know what He wants -- except for play his fucking massive solitaire with us all -- but I do know that no demon has ever Risen." He grimaced. "So, if he truly plans to Raise me, he could just as well give me some sign. After all, he speaks to his angels all the time, doesn't he? I don't ask for much. Well, not much from Him, anyway. As soon as my wings are white, I'll believe that it is possible for me to just whine and be taken back. Until then, well, you can simply just fuck off." Glancing around, he continued, "So tell me, Mister Know-It-All, are those annoying angels still around?"

"I do believe so," the priest replied, appearing entirely unfazed by the angry demon's words. "However, I can show you another way out. There are no angels around there."

Crowley readily followed the man to a small back door. He then slipped out into a dark alley, not bothering to thank the man -- after all, he was a demon, no matter what the idiot human said.

As soon as Crowley had closed the door, the little chapel seemed to start fading away. The priest chuckled slightly, then shook his head, at the same time shaking away his human form. "I do not understand how Aziraphale puts up with such a character on regular basis," muttered Metatron. "Ah, well. It is not my place to judge." Had there been anybody around, they might have heard him mutter quietly, "Although why Uriel wasn't given this task, I do not know." However, there was no one to hear it, and so nobody answered.

And then, the angel disappeared, going to report his mission as an apparent success.

* * *

For a moment Aziraphale just stood there, not knowing what to think or do. It seemed all he was capable of at the moment was just standing there and crying. The lower angels hovered about in front of him, seemingly not knowing what to do. Well, he couldn't blame them for _that_. For everything else he could. 

Crowley was dead. That was the only thought in his head now. Crowley was dead, and it was going to take a long time to get him back. And when he came back, would he still be the same Crowley as before?

Suddenly, though, his sad thoughts were interrupted as he felt something -- Crowley's presence. It was dimmed somehow, too faint for him to detect where it was coming from, but it told him that Crowley was still alive, and even relatively well. That thought gave him relief unlike anything else.

"He's alive," he sighed, unable to keep those words inside. "He's alive somewhere."

Of course, the lower angels just had to prove their idiocy by opening their big mouths. "But how is that possible?" asked the girl, looking shocked. "We used all those holy objects on him!"

"...And the holy water!" finished another angel. This, however, he should have not said.

"WHAT?" exclaimed Aziraphale, horrified. "You used _holy water_ on Crowley!"

The leader of the three lower angels squirmed uncomfortably. "Well, yes," he muttered. "Hey, we thought he was evil and all that! So we figured it'd be best if we got rid of him at once!"

"He wasn't even harmed by it," another replied fearfully. "Okay, so he was hurt, but nothing else! He didn't even burn or melt or anything that demons are supposed to do when they come in contact with holy water!"

Now, this truly fascinated Aziraphale. Holy water didn't affect Crowley like it was supposed to? That had to mean something, but what? He didn't dare to even think about the possibilities.

"Well, you wouldn't win him in a fair battle anyway," Aziraphale said bitterly. "He was a cherub before he Fell, and the best warrior there was. The only ones who could win him were -- and still are, I believe -- Michael and Lucifer. You three would hardly offer even a proper distraction for him."

"How can you speak so casually about the Adversary?" asked the girl angel fearfully. "That's blasphemy!"

Now, Aziraphale sighed in frustration. "I wasn't referring to him as he is now," he said irritably. "Believe me, I would not speak lightly about facing him nowadays. However, Lucifer the archangel was quite different from Lucifer the Adversary. I am Gabriel's little brother, and I grew up tugging at Michael's wings and messing up Lucifer's hair. I do not fear speaking of him as he was back when I was little."

Unsurprisingly, the angels seemed quite shocked at this. "You're Gabriel's brother?" asked one disbelievingly, while the other screeched, "You tugged at _Michael'_s wings!"

"Yes and yes," replied Aziraphale irritably. "Now, if you please, I'd like to find Crowley and make sure that he is all right. And you are all going to help me." His tone left no room for arguing.

* * *

Gabriel smiled slightly as he wiped a coppery lock of hair from his lover's forehead. Raphael was exhausted, which was only understandable. It was not the first time, either. The healer always put others before himself, never caring how much he himself was hurt if he healed somebody. Of course, this made Gabriel love him only more, but he couldn't help thinking that maybe Raphael could at least sometimes be more selfish. After all, he wasn't the only healer in Heaven capable of healing even bad injuries, and yet he insisted on personally healing everyone who was brought to him instead of telling somebody else to do it. If it hadn't been for Gabriel looking after him, Raphael would have burned out a hundred times already. 

Gabriel's thoughts wandered to his little brother, and he shuddered. Now, that was something only Raphael could heal -- and that was truly rare. He now definitely believed Michael's words about Aziraphale still being one of the cherubim, though; no principality could have ever survived close contact with hellfire. His brother had been badly hurt, though. Well, even archangels would have been hurt badly by the hellfire.

That brought up bad memories, from the time of the Fall. Raphael had never been a warrior. He could use a sword as well as the next angel, true, but he had always been a healer first and foremost. And, because of his skills in healing, he had been one of the first to be targeted in the first war to ever be fought.

Gabriel could still remember it like it had happened just moments ago. At one moment, Raphael had been looking at him, shouting something he hadn't been able to hear over the noise of the battle. And the next moment, there had been a flaming sword. It hadn't been divine fire, like the one surrounding Gabriel's own blade; no, it had been a dark, twisted mockery of the holiness those white flames represented. And those flames, that unholy blade, had cut right through his lover, leaving him with a slightly surprised expression.

The blade had run right through Raphael's heart. Anything else his body could have healed, anything else he could have survived. But it had run through his heart, tearing it, and he had fallen down, dead.

Although that was without doubt the worst one, none of Gabriel's memories of that war were pleasant. Like the moment he had seen Aziraphale dying, too.

His dear little brother had stood there, his red and golden armour spotted with angel blood, his eyes shining with divine wrath. Ever new enemies had fallen prey to his sword, his skill only rivalled by three others despite his young age. Two of those three had been locked in a duel in the air above all the others, a sword clashing with another as the two highest of angels had fought. The third had been nowhere to be seen.

Aziraphale had turned around, grinning triumphantly, and Gabriel had grinned back. Then he had cried out in horror as a blade had broken through Aziraphale, the young angel's expression turning from triumphant to slightly surprised. Uriel, who had been fighting beside Gabriel, had frozen.

Aziraphale had fallen to the ground, as lifeless as Raphael. Over his body had another young angel looked at them, his long, black locks flying wild in inexistent wind, his eyes blazing.

Then, before either of the archangels could react in any way, Carowiel had been away.

Even after Aziraphale had managed to reform his body, neither Gabriel nor Uriel had told him just who had struck at him from behind like a coward. They simply couldn't have told him that it had been his dearest childhood friend, the only one besides Michael and Lucifer who would have actually won him in a one-on-one battle. It had been bad enough to tell him that Carowiel had Fallen.

That was one of the things Gabriel meant to ask from the demon. Why had he, well knowing that he was one of the few capable of winning Aziraphale in a fair battle, decided to go about it like a coward?

Raphael frowned in his sleep, and Gabriel reached out a hand to pet his lover's fiery locks of hair. Almost instantly the frown disappeared, and the healer appeared to be sleeping peacefully. The Messenger of God smiled. Leaning forward, he placed a soft kiss on the clear forehead. "Sleep well, love," he whispered gently, a fond smile still lingering on his lips. "You definitely need your rest."

Then he rose and walked out of the room.

**

* * *

Next chapter:**

More archangels. More demons.


	17. Archangelic Awakening

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: And here comes chapter 17, short-ish but ready and posted in time!

* * *

Chapter 17: 

Archangelic Awakening

* * *

Gabriel lay beside Raphael, doing little else except for petting the other archangel's coppery hair. His thoughts wandered aimlessly from one topic to another. More than anything, though, they returned to Aziraphale and Crowley, and just what he should make of their relationship. 

He was having a hard time wholeheartedly trusting Crowley. Sure, he did trust Aziraphale's judgement, and as long as his brother was happy, he was happy as well. However, even though he trusted the demon with his brother's happiness and even life at the moment, he wasn't sure whether he could always do that.

As far as he was concerned, Gabriel didn't think there was any reason to fear that Crowley might hurt Aziraphale through their relationship. He'd certainly had many opportunities to do so during the last six millennia, and he had often done so, too. (Gabriel remembered all too well the several times his brother had been discorporated in his first couple of millennia on Earth.) However, those attacks had become few and far between, and finally they had disappeared completely. Whenever Aziraphale had been hurt in the last three millennia or so, it had been because of some other demon, never because of Crowley. If the demon hadn't tried to harm Aziraphale far before their relationship, why would he do it now?

However, another problem did concern him. Sooner or later there was going to be a war between Heaven and Hell, that Gabriel knew. Aziraphale, despite being rather cynical, obviously trusted Crowley absolutely. Even in war, he would just turn his back to the demon. What if Crowley betrayed him again?

Firmly shaking his head, Gabriel banished such thoughts from his mind. Aziraphale was going to be fine, as were all of them. There was no war going on between Above and Below, and if there was going to be one in the future, he could do nothing to stop it. And besides, Aziraphale could take care of himself.

Glancing at Raphael, Gabriel smiled at that thought. Raphael still obviously thought of Aziraphale as just a little child. As far the healer was concerned, Aziraphale hadn't even drawn his sword yet -- or figured out how to do such a thing in the first place -- and was instead concentrating on counting just how many toes and fingers he had. Gabriel, who had witnessed Aziraphale lighting up Michael's sword before he could even fly or walk, found this fact rather amusing.

For a moment, Gabriel closed his eyes as well. Nobody was going to notice if he used a moment to sleep as well. It wasn't like anybody would enter an archangel's apartment anyway, and, being an angel and not really needing to sleep, he would be awake well in time for the two to head down to Earth.

However, this plan never came to be. This was ensured as the door to the apartment was slammed shut. Then hasty steps approached, the intruder seemingly deciding that whatever message he had qualified as a proper reason for breaking into an archangel's apartment and rushing inside.

And just then, Michael looked into the bedroom around the corner. Seemingly unfazed by the entire scene displayed in front of him -- at the moment Gabriel was still petting Raphael's hair -- he said, "Get Raphael awake, Gabriel. I'm afraid we'll need his services all too soon."

Now, Gabriel frowned. "Can't somebody else do that healing?" he asked. "Raphael is absolutely exhausted. He needs his sleep every once in a while, like you should know."

"Look, Gabriel, I do know it, and would never do something like that. However, this isn't just a usual healing job -- Raphael truly has too many of those; why he doesn't just make somebody else do all that work is beyond me. However, this kind of concerns you both."

"What is it about?" asked Gabriel, frowning. Then, he grimaced as realization hit him. "It's about Aziraphale again, isn't it?" he asked, sitting up on the bed. "What has happened to my brother now?"

"Nothing yet," Michael said gloomily, "but soon, something might." At Gabriel's still questioning expression, he continued, "After the incident with the Hellbeast, I set an angel to watch over London to make sure Aziraphale's not in danger anymore. He just reported a sighting of several demons in the city."

Now, this certainly startled Gabriel. At the same time, it made him angry. How did these demons _dare_ to try to kill his brother all the time? That would _not_ be tolerated.

"...Aziraphale's in danger?" muttered Raphael quietly. Blinking a couple of times, he focused his eyes on Gabriel. "And don't you start preaching on me," he said sharply. "I was awake anyway. There's no way I could rest peacefully knowing that your brother is under threat and I'm not doing anything about it!"

Now, Gabriel sighed. This didn't surprise him at all; rather, it was quite typical of Raphael. And, as much as he loved the gentle healer, at times he would have just wanted to tie him onto bed -- to _sleep_. However, it seemed like Raphael was intent on coming along, no matter whether Gabriel approved. Better just let him.

**

* * *

Next chapter:**

Crowley finally gets to give Aziraphale the sword.


	18. Relieved Reunion

Disclaimer: I own very little.

* * *

Chapter 18:

Relieved Reunion

* * *

Crowley walked down the street, feeling rather satisfied with himself. Under his arm he held his gift for Aziraphale, the deadly blade carefully wrapped. Not even those idiot angels could spoil his day now. 

The idiots may have been still around or they may have left, he couldn't tell either way. It appeared that while the church's lingering powers indeed shielded him from the angels' detection, they also dimmed his own demonic senses. Even Aziraphale's presence was just a faint feel in the back of his mind, nowhere as clear as it usually was. This disturbed him a bit, but he forced himself to deal with it. There was no choice.

Suddenly, however, he heard a very familiar voice behind him. "Crowley!" exclaimed Aziraphale, sounding ecstatic. "Finally I found you! Oh, I've been so very worried about you!"

Quickly Crowley shrunk the package and put it into his pocket, then turned around to face the angel. And the next second he staggered a couple of steps back as he was met with a bundle of feathers, laughter, and very happy angelic presence. "Watch out, Angel," he muttered, at the same time locking his arms around the angel to make sure he was still there, that despite the faint presence Aziraphale was indeed whole and complete. "You almost knocked me over! You fly pretty fast when you want to."

"Well, that's what I noticed, too," Aziraphale said, finally entangling himself from Crowley's arms and taking a small step backwards. All around them people just walked by, not seeing or hearing a thing out of ordinary. "I made these three help in looking for you, but they simply couldn't keep up with me."

At the mention of 'these three' Crowley glanced sharply to the direction Aziraphale was pointing at. His eyes flashed as he saw the three angels that had threatened him with all those holy objects. The angels squirmed uneasily. Apparently Aziraphale had actually put them in line.

"I'd like to just kick them into next year and back," he muttered, pulling Aziraphale back into his embrace. No, he wasn't going to let go so soon. "Can you imagine? They tried to do me in with holy stuff!"

"Oh, they told me!" exclaimed the angel. "They were actually proud to announce that they had relieved me of 'that vile demon!' Well, I was quick to correct them. But what happened? For a moment, your presence disappeared completely from my mind! I was so scared, Crowley -- I thought you were -- were --"

"Calm down, Angel," sighed Crowley. "It takes more than three overenthusiastic angel kids to do me in. I'm here, and I don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon." He tightened his embrace around Aziraphale, greatly enjoying the feel of the half human, half angelic body.

"Hey!" one of the three angels dared to shout. "We're still here, you know! Don't talk about us like that!"

Crowley was about to open his mouth, but Aziraphale raised a hand to silence him. Then, twisting around in the circle of Crowley's arms, Aziraphale turned towards the three lower angels. "Dear children," he started with an overly patient voice, "I am Gabriel's brother. I was brought to existence as a cherub, and all I need to be one again is my sword. This is Crowley, formerly Carowiel, Uriel's brother before he Fell, Michael's best warrior ever. As a demon he was the one to bring forth the Original Sin. I can safely assure you that neither of us can be bothered to give a thought to what you feel after everything you've done."

Crowley cheered inwardly as this rather effectively silenced the young angels. "Why, Angel, I never thought you'd picked such things from me," he said. "Using your position on your advantage. Bad, bad angel."

"It'sss not the only thing I picked from you," Aziraphale replied with a small smile. "Asss I ssshouted at thossse three, I dissscovered a little habit of hissssing. It isss rather fun."

Crowley, however, decided that they had definitely talked enough and needed something else. Therefore, he pulled Aziraphale back against himself, pressing a fierce kiss on his angel's lips, a kiss that was immediately returned. In the middle of all the people on the street, in front of the three startled angels, the two kissed, tongues engaged in a battle for dominance, hands wandering, seeking, coming to hold.

Pleasant shivers ran through Crowley's body from head to toes. Aziraphale's touch seemed to wash away the effects of the strange little church he'd stumbled over. Now he could feel the auras of the three lower angels, and Aziraphale's aura, too, so beautiful and perfect, somehow seemingly even stronger than before. This, Crowley suspected, was just because his mind had gotten used to the faint version and now overreacted as its receiving skills returned to normal levels.

A tiny moan escaped Aziraphale's lips, encouraging Crowley to continue his little job of kissing and caressing. Of course, the demon was all too happy to do so.

Whoever knows just how far they would have gone there, in the middle of the street. However, suddenly Crowley broke off the kiss, looking surprised and slightly worried. "Demonsss," he hissed. "There are lotsss of demonsss sssomewhere nearby -- and that isss _not_ a good thing."

Aziraphale froze in his arms, then slowly pulled away. Glancing around warily, the angel looked for any sign of demonic presence (aside from Crowley, of course) while the three lower angels shivered in fear.

An odd thought came to Crowley as he inspected the feeling of demonic presence further. "Look, take this, Angel," he said, drawing the tiny package from his pocket, at the same time forcing himself not to hiss. "It was meant to be your Christmas gift, but I think you need it already."

He then stared expectantly as Aziraphale took the wrapped sword, looking slightly surprised. Three... Two... One...

**

* * *

Next chapter:**

Demons. Battlemode!Azi'n'Crowley. Possibly an archangelic appeareance. Really, why would you need anything else?


	19. Present Preparations

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: Yes, I know it's the 20th. And I was already writing this chap yesterday, honest. However, fell asleep right in the middle of it, and by the time I woke up, it was morning and I had just enough time to get my clothes on before I left for school. So, sorry, but it really couldn't be helped.

* * *

Chapter 19:

Present Preparations  


* * *

For a moment Aziraphale just stared at the object he had found in the package. Light played on the smooth surface of the silvery weapon. The cool metal in his hands felt soothing and familiar despite all the millennia he had spent apart from it. Immediately he remembered all the times he had struck, countered, defended with it, every step and move drilled into his memory by endless hours of practice. He remembered the sword clashing with another, the sharp sound of metal against metal. And he also remembered a pair of azure blue eyes, fixed at his over the locked plades, a tiny smile playing on the pale face, black locks of curly hair flying about. And the sword being knocked from his hands, then given back, a peace offering. 

Carowiel, it had always been Carowiel -- well, him and Michael. Lucifer had never bothered to practice with anybody but Michael, so Michael and Carowiel were the only ones who had ever won him in a practice after he had learned the basics of swordsmanship.

Finally managing to tear his eyes away from the magnificent weapon, he turned towards Crowley, his smile brighter than perhaps ever. "Where did you find it?" he asked eagerly. "When? _How_?"

"Angel, you gave your sword to humans, so humans had it," Crowley replied smoothly, although there was a hint of pink on his pale cheeks. "I found it in a little antique shop a few days back. And as for how, well, I was just walking on, minding my own business, when I felt something that was like your aura. As I knew it couldn't be you, I went to investigate, and, well, this beauty just sat there all alone and miserable. So I spoke with the shopkeeper and arranged to fetch it close to Christmas so I wouldn't have to keep it hidden for too long; I figured you'd have immediately noticed it in my flat if I'd kept it there."

"I -- I don't know what to say," Aziraphale said quietly, his eyes returning to adore the weapon that was like an extension of his arm, so familiar it was to him. A ray of light reflected from the surface of the blade, formed perfect and smooth by the best smith ever. "This -- this is more than I could have ever wished for!"

"I believe that 'thank you, Crowley,' would be quite enough," the demon replied with a tiny smirk. "Oh, and no complaining if I have no other Christmas present for you, either. However, it's not the time for that now. There are demons around, and they're most probably coming after us -- or, rather, after you. Wouldn't it be better to face them somewhere with less people around?"

"Like at a park," Aziraphale concluded, nodding in confirmation. "Very well, let's head for the nearest open place. You three!" he then shouted at the lower angels. "You're free to follow us or stay behind, either way. Although there are indeed a lot of demons about, you should be able to survive with all those holy objects you're carrying. That is, if they don't have any more hellfire-spitting beasts with them." With a grim smile, he continued, "It is entirely your own decision, you know. Follow... or stay."

With this said, Aziraphale then beat his wings a couple of times, rising up to the air. At the same time he changed into his true form, and Crowley gasped despite himself. Where for six millennia had been the simple robes of a principality, Aziraphale now carried an armour of red and gold. So that was what his strengthened aura had meant -- his lover was indeed of cherubic stock, and no more a mere principality. This filled Crowley with quiet pride as he, too, let his true form take over. He noticed the angels' eyes widening as they saw his armour, and smirked a bit. In Hell, everybody carrier armours -- well, everybody who wasn't covered with tentacles and slime, anyway. Although his former position as a Duke had been revoked after that fiasco at Eden, his armour had stayed the same as nobody had the time to check whether one of the lower demons was wearing a proper armour. Well, if Aziraphale's case was any indication, it was only his status that had been taken away; apparently the power was still hiding somewhere. Too bad he couldn't gain access to that power on his own, or he'd really show Hastur and Ligur.

In his hurry to fly after his angel Crowley didn't even notice the fact that his armour was now mostly silver.

* * *

Gabriel and Michael both kept giving worried glances to Raphael as the three hurried through the Golden City. Gabriel would have preferred to go straight to Earth -- and leave Raphael behind to rest -- but for some reason Michael had insisted that Uriel should come along as well. However, even in their hurry to get to Aziraphale's aid neither Gabriel nor Michael could forget their worry for the gentle healer. Raphael had been very insistent on coming along, even to the point of threatening to go alone if they left him behind, and the two others had decided that it'd be better if they could at least keep an eye on him. However, the red-head still appeared to be exhausted, and every now and then his wings faltered a bit. 

The only reason why they didn't simply transport themselves to Uriel's side was the fact that the act of transportion was rather power-consuming. Usually the archangels could do it pretty much without any limits, given the enormous amounts of power they housed, but neither of the healthy archangels would allow any risks at the moment. Raphael could probably manage at least a trip to the Earth and back; anything else was a guess. And if he tried to transport himself while too exhausted, the results wouldn't be pretty. Too bad that an archangel couldn't transport another the way Gabriel had done to Crowley and Aziraphale.

However, Raphael would pull through. He had to.

* * *

They had just arrived to St. James' Park -- why everything always happened there, Crowley didn't know, but he did appreaciate the familiar surroundings -- when the sense of demons getting nearer was clear enough to be detected even by the lower angels. The three young angels -- who had chosen to follow -- all shivered in fear, carefully moving to place Aziraphale and Crowley between themselves and the demons. However, this became a rather futile attempt at safety as another hoard started to approach from the opposite direction. Whimpering, they tried to both approach the cherub and demon and avoid them. 

Aziraphale sighed, shaking his head. "It appears we'll have to look after those three," he remarked dryly to Crowley. "I truly hope somebody notices their absence Up There. It's difficult enough to fight demons with so little practice lately even without three kids hanging on the hem of my robes."

"Well, hanging on you armour, rather," Crowley remarked. He summoned his claws, flexing them testingly a couple of times. As he spoke, sharp fangs flashed. "Unless you failed to notice, you are currently in your cherub attire. Just add a bit of holy glow and the lower demons will run away just at that."

At first, Aziraphale frowned a bit, then nodded. "It's not like I can hurt you with it... is it?" he said. As Crowley shook his head no, he then took on a concentrated expression. A moment later Crowley sensed a strong aura, definitely that of a cherub, yet still so familiar and Aziraphael-ish. Once again he was filled with pride for his lover. Watching the armoured and armed cherub, though, he suddenly ached to have a sword of his own. That wasn't possible, though. Hell didn't rely on weapons much, and those demons who did were far above his current rank. Ah, well -- he could certainly use his claws and fangs well enough, even though nowhere near as effectively as he could have used a sword. He had, after all, been the best warrior of angelic ranks, only bested by Michael himself -- and possibly Lucifer.

However, he soon found that he had no more time to ponder such things. Demons rushed into sight.

**

* * *

Next chapter:**

Battle! Yay! And with neither of our guys getting hurt -- by the demons, that is. :evil smirk:


	20. Adjusting Auras

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: I'm terribly sorry for not updating in time. However, between exams, Christmas preparations, and catching a nasty cold, that's been rather impossible due to reasons no fault of my own. Don't worry, though -- chapter 25 _will_ be posted on Christmas Day. And as this chapter has the last cliffhanger in the whole fic, you don't have much time to spend in suspense.

So, enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 20:

Adjusting Auras

* * *

As the demons came to sight, Crowley and Aziraphale glanced at each other. Then they took their positions on both sides of the three young angels. "You ssstay put," Crowley hissed. "Only if sssomebody'sss about to catch you, you ussse your holy ssstuff or fly away. Got it, angelsss?" The three nodded fearfully. 

"Excellent," Aziraphale said, taking a fighting stance. "Now, Crowley. Ready to slay your kind?"

The demon in silver armour grinned, flexing his claws. "When they're coming after you? You bet." Glancing at the demons now hurrying towards them, he added, "Looks like they're really desperate to get you, too. Well, all the more reason to take the whole bunch down, right?"

"Right, indeed." And then, they spoke no more, as the demons reached them.

Some demons seemed surprised to see one of their kind fighting against them, but didn't care; they were all trying to get to the angels and specifically Aziraphale. On the other side, Aziraphale was well holding up his own. His cherub's aura was keeping the weakest demons away altogether, and the rest were done in by his excellent swordsmanship. The few that managed to get past him or Crowley were soon encountered with various holy objects held by three absolutely terrified angels.

Aziraphale raised his sword once again, absently blowing yet another falling flake of snow from his face. The demons were still pressing on, but he wasn't about to give up.

The divine flames around his sword flared high, tearing at the demons. Stepping aside, Aziraphale just barely managed to avoid a relatively strong demon charging at him. Noticing a wound on the evil creature's side he then strengthened his aura and stabbed with it. With a scream of pain, the creature collapsed, cherubic powers too much for it to bear. The angel smirked briefly, then turned to face the next demon trying to get at him. His sword was humming with divine power, smiting a demon after demon, and he never got exhausted, moving quickly and gracefully, one with his sword.

Even after several millennia Aziraphale was so used to fighting that he actually could let his thoughts wander while his body took care of moving. The change of Crowley's armour fascinated him. At first he hadn't paid much attention to it, subconsciously assuming that it had always been that way. Now, however, his memory made sure to tell him that Crowley's armour had been mostly back ever since his Fall.

Next he assumed that Crowley had simply changed his style. Then, however, he noticed something strange as his senses scanned the area. There were no humans around, all subconsciously avoiding the park. Besides himself and the numerous demonic auras, he sensed three -- no, _four_ angels somewhere nearby.

At first he thought he'd made some kind of a mistake. Then, however, he was able to catch a glimpse of Crowley. Adjusting his eyes to the spiritual scale, he was then shocked as he saw a faint glow of holiness around his lover. There wasn't as much as there would have been around a true angel, of course, but definitely enough to be identified as angelic instead of demonic.

Sword down, right, step back, strike to left. Expand aura, _stab_, withdraw to get them nearer. Another glance at Crowley told that the angelic demon was fighting much in the same manner, with little conscious thought but rather on instinct. Claws flashed, fangs tore, a kick sent a lower demon flying.

A thought came to Aziraphale. He didn't know whether it would work, but it sure was worth a try. After all, there was angelic power in Crowley's aura... the aura that seemed stronger than before.

"Crowley!" he cried out. "Crowley, put your claws on fire!" Now, he sensed a bit of doubt in Crowley's presence. It wasn't a surprise; only stronger demons could do such a thing, and even if it did manage, hellfire would hardly hurt their enemies. "Don't think, just do it!" he shouted.

A second later there were screams and yelps of surprise from the demons. Out of the corner of his eye Aziraphale noticed a silverish white glow around Crowley's hands, and smirked. So it had managed, then. Truth be told, he was rather surprised himself -- but definitely happy as well.

* * *

"Raphael, you should be in bed in that condition!" snapped Uriel the moment he saw his fellow archangels. "Michael, Gabriel, what in all of Heaven were you thinking? Can't you see he's absolutely exhausted?" 

"We tried, but he wouldn't stay," Michael said sharply. "So, we thought it'd be better if we at least were there to look after him instead of him sneaking away alone!"

"Well, where are you going, then?" asked Uriel dryly. "It surely can't be _that_ serious."

"It is," Gabriel said. "A large group of demons has decided to attack Aziraphale!"

The dark-haired archangel only looked vaguely interested. Before Michael managed to explain just why he wanted Uriel to come along -- something Gabriel and Raphael were rather curious about as well -- a small dove flew to them, carrying a message. Michael took the message from the bird and read it. Then, a grin spread onto his face. "Guess what?" he asked happily. "Crowley's armour is wholly silver now!"

"Really?" Uriel raised an eyebrow, now looking more interested. "My, my, this is truly getting interesting. I shall come to Earth with you -- but at first there is something I must fetch from my apartment." And with that, he disappeared, leaving the three others to wait for him.

* * *

Crowley was rather bewildered as not only did he manage to put his claws on fire -- something he'd thought to be impossible after he'd lost his rank as Duke -- but on divine fire, too. It sure was effective, though -- demons burned and melted whenever he struck at them. 

Experimentally he spread his aura further while his body took care of the fighting. It was definitely stronger than before, almost as strong as it'd been before his rank got revoked. This fact surprised him even more than the divine fire -- and it definitely pleased him more as well.

A flake of snow floated down onto his hand, melting immediately. A wicked grin spread onto his face as a plan started to take form in his mind -- a truly wicked plan.

"Angel!" he called out, confident that the four angels behind him all knew which one of them he meant. "Angel, this snow -- it's just frozen water, right? Then just fucking bless it all!"

There was a hint of surprise in Aziraphale's presence. "I can't!" replied the angel. "There's too much of it for me to bless it alone. And besides, I don't want to hurt you!"

"Those idiots already tried, and their holy water didn't work, right?" Crowley replied. "And it shouldn't be too hard for a fucking cherub to bless the whole bloody cloud. It won't hurt me, my fire's bloody divine --" And suddenly another thought hit his mind.

It was insane. It was absolutely insane, but he liked the idea. At the very least it was worth a try.

Kicking the nearest demons away, he raised his hands. Not really knowing how to act in such a situation, he decided to improvise. "Oh Lord Above, bless all this snow!" he yelled.

Aziraphale immediately sensed the difference in spiritual powers as Crowley's trick worked. A second later, there was a wave of screams of pain as the demons all started to burn and melt. However, Aziraphale paid no mind to these. There was only one thing he actually heard.

...The horrifying scream of pain escaping Crowley's lips as the now holy snow made contact with his lover.

**

* * *

Next chapter:**

Crowley's hurt. Archangels make yet another appearance. Anael, Unsurel, and Lyriel are punished.


	21. Purifying Punishment

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N:**Gwaihiril**, are you psychic or something? Or are my intentions just too easy to guess? 'Cause, yes, it is indeed Crowley/Carowiel's sword that he went to get.

* * *

Chapter 21:

Purifying Punishment

* * *

A moment later Uriel appeared again in front of the other archangels. The others immediately noticed the change of his accessories. On his side now hung another silvery sword in addition to his own, which he'd already had earlier. It appeared that the only difference between the two swords was the shape of the emerald embedded on the hilt. On Uriel's sword it was triangular, on the other, round. Raphael and Gabriel were confused at first, while Michael simply nodded. Then, however, realization hit the two others. 

"Is that... Corawiel's sword?" asked Gabriel disbelievingly. As the other angel nodded, the heavenly Messenger continued, "So you've had it safe all this time? That is... surprising."

"Why is it surprising?" asked Uriel levelly. "Gabriel, my friend, I am the Angel of Salvation. If anybody would cling to the hope that my brother will Rise one day, it would be me." With a glance down at the sword, he added rather quietly, "Though I have to admit that at times I have come close to destroying it."

The other archangels just nodded, too stunned to say anything. They were not used to seeing this kind of behaviour from Uriel. However, now wasn't the time to dwell on it. Aziraphale and Crowley needed their help, and their help the two were going to get, even if Uriel was acting out of character.

"Are you sure you're up to it, Raphael?" asked Gabriel, glancing worriedly at his lover. "Maybe you should stay here. After all, you can't heal anybody in this condition, so you'd better just --"

"I'm coming along," the red-haired angel cut him off. "This is Aziraphale in question, Gabriel. He's your brother, which makes him practically my brother, too. And he's not suited for any kind of battle. I could not rest easy without knowing for sure that he's absolutely safe."

The other three glanced at each other behind his back, rolling their eyes. Raphael still saw Aziraphale as more than a baby. Well, that was rather understandable; after all, he had never seen Aziraphale fight. Being not interested in battles himself -- he had probably never drawn his sword since the war during the first Fall, and even then only momentarily -- he'd never gone to see the battle practices. Thus, he never saw how the little baby he'd once held in his arms had grown to be one of the most formidable warriors to ever stand among Heaven's forces. The only times he'd seen anything associated with both battles and Aziraphale had been when the young angel had come to him with the wounds from practices. During the Fall Raphael had been one of the first to die, waking up to see poor Aziraphale killed and very slowly returning to health. All this didn't really make him more confident about Aziraphale's battle skills.

Gabriel shivered as he thought about Aziraphale during the war of Fall. Oh, he definitely had to question Crowley about that. The archangel still couldn't understand why he'd done such a thing to his best friend.

However, there was no more time to ponder such things right now. They had two beings to save.

* * *

Both Aziraphale and the lower angels were startled as Crowley screamed in pain. Then, however, their surprise and, in Aziraphale's case, fear and worry soon turned into morbid fascination. Instead of melting him, the holy snow, melting into holy water as soon as it touched him, seemed to be... washing Crowley. 

Wherever the snow met black wings, melting in an instant because of the heat of the demon, it took away a bit of the darkness, the tiny streams of holy water leaving white trails on the feathers. When the demon's hands were touched by the snow as well, his claws disappeared, and the slight burns in them were healed. His mouth open in a pained scream, Crowley soon got some of the melted holy snow into his mouth as well, and before he doubled up, coughing and spluttering, the angels managed to catch a glimpse of shrinking fangs. Finally, the no more demon was on his knees on the ground, head hanging low, pained whimpers escaping his lips as his whole body shook with tremors.

And his wings were as white as the now happily falling snow.

"...Crowley?" asked Aziraphale hesitantly. "Crowley, my dear, how are you feeling?"

"Bloody awful," croaked the demon. "I don't understand... When those kids dropped holy water on me, it didn't even burn me. It did hurt, yes, but nowhere this much. What'd go wrong this time?"

For a moment, Aziraphale didn't find anything to say. Just how was he going to explain something he wasn't sure he understood himself? Finally, he whispered, "Crowley, love... look at your wings."

Obediently, Crowley bent his wings forward, his muscles trembling at the effort in their weakened state. As the large, feathery appendages finally reached his area of sight, his eyes widened in shock. Aziraphale noticed offhandedly that although the formerly snakelike eyes were now mostly like angel eyes, heavenly blue and with round pupils, there were still little golden flecks in them.

"But -- how --" started Crowley, then shook his head. "No, this can't be true," he said, chuckling weakly. "Be careful what you wish for, indeed." Ignoring Aziraphale's questioning gaze, he raised his hand to examine it. "My claws are away... and they won't come even when I summon them. The same goes for my fangs. And my wings are white, bloody angelic white, and I put my claws on divine fire." With a final humourless laugh, he added, "The next thing I know, the archangels and Metatron will probably all show up here to offer me a chance at Redemption."

"Well, not exactly," said a calm voice behind them. "Metatron couldn't make it, nor do I think he would have been interested, never mind much of use. But as for us archangels, well, we are indeed all here."

Very slowly, Crowley turned around. The angels all looked to the same direction and froze. There really were four archangels in front of them, Michael in full armour of red and gold, the others' robes shining in the richest hues of yellow, blue, and green along with gold, silver, and white. Gabriel and Raphael were both unarmed, but Michael had his sword at his side as usual, and Uriel had... _two_ swords.

For a moment Crowley and the four angels nearest to him just stared at the archangels, his mouth open, too stunned to say a word. Then they were snapped out of their frozen state as Michael -- who was also the one who had spoken earlier -- looked at the three lower angels sternly.

"It has been ordered by Him that demon Crowley and angel Aziraphale are to be left in peace by every and each member of the Host of Heaven," the blond archangel said strictly. "For your crimes, you should Fall."

The angels immediately went about as pale as their robes would have been, had they not been so dirty. "But -- we didn't know that!" Anael cried out. "Nobody ever told us about such an order!"

"We know that," Gabriel said calmly. "And because of that, the fact that it's Christmas, and that you didn't manage to cause any true harm, you shall not Fall. However," he added strictly as a hint of hope showed up on the three angels' faces, "you shall not go unpunished, either. For your transgressions, you shall not sing along with the angelic choirs on the coming Christmas night."

Anael, Lyriel, and Unsurel all looked shocked. Michael, however, just waved a hand. "Now, fly back to heaven," he commanded strictly. "We have some business here."

Obediently, the lower angels rose to their wings, still slightly trembling as they swept their wings the few first times. Glancing back once or twice, they then headed towards the sky and the Heaven that lay beyond, leaving behind the archangels, the cherub, and the being that was neither a demon nor a true angel.

And now, the archangels glanced at Aziraphale and Crowley.

**

* * *

Author Notes:** Now, who admits having skipped the bit with the archangels at first to get to know what happened to Crowley right away?

**Next chapter:**

Archangels talk with Aziraphale and Crowley.

...Well, what did you expect?


	22. Silent Salvation

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: Look! Look! I only have 3 more chapters to post! And one of them is mostly written, too. :is feeling very proud of herself:

Oh, and about that cliffhanger thing? ...I lied. Well. Didn't foresee the end of this chapter. Whatever.

* * *

Chapter 22:

Silent Salvation  


* * *

For a moment there was just silence. Pregnant, absolute silence that was pressuring them all to say something, yet nobody dared to speak up first, everybody waiting for somebody else to make a move. 

Finally, though, Uriel stepped forward, drawing one of the swords from his belt -- the one with a round emerald on the hilt. Throwing it whirling right upwards, he then grasped on the blade as it came back down. Taking another few steps forward, he then offered the sword to Crowley, the hilt first.

"I vowed that I would never let this fall in the hands of a demon," the dark-haired archangel said levelly. "Though there's little to be said for certain at the moment, I am indeed certain you are not one anymore."

Wordlessly Crowley accepted the sword, his eyes locked at those of his elder brother. Still not looking away from Uriel, he put the sword onto his belt and, very carefully, still trembling slightly, rose to his feet.

For a moment there was silence again as Crowley eyed the four archangels challengingly, Aziraphale standing warily beside him. At last, the silence was broken as Uriel spoke once more.

"Shall you believe now?" asked the archangel quietly. "Or do you demand yet more evidence?"

Crowley raised an eyebrow, only barely managing to keep his expression in control. "So it was you in that church?" he asked quietly. "But of course. The Angel of Salvation, aren't you?"

"That is indeed one of my tasks, yes," Uriel replied levelly. "But no, I wasn't the one to meet at you at that church. I wasn't informed of those events until shortly afterwards, and I must admit that I was rather doubtful anything would ever happen." He raised an eyebrow as well. "And that's because no holy change can be brought upon a creature of evil unless they initiate a manifestation of holy power first."

Now Michael stepped forward, too, while Gabriel stayed back, supporting his lover. "You successfully blessed the falling snow, and thus proved yourself indeed worthy of Rising," he said. "Try to find it in yourself to accept forgiveness, Crowley... Carowiel. I'd like to have you in my ranks once more."

Just as Crowley was about to speak, though, another voice spoke up. "Wait!" Gabriel called out, now casting Crowley a sharp look. "Before this goes any further, I must ask one question." Locking his eyes at the golden-freckled ones, he asked quietly, "Why did you once kill Aziraphale in such a cowardly way?"

For another moment it was absolutely silent. Raphael looked shocked and the other archangels just grim. Aziraphale's expression was unreadable. Crowley, however, just lowered his gaze.

"I... I heard some older angels of my side talking," he said quietly. "They planned to take Aziraphale down by unfairly attacking him many at once. He wouldn't have survived it, there was no way he could have... But he was such a good fighter, he'd been able to hold them back for some time. His death would have been slow and painful." Raising his eyes at Gabriel, he said, "I wanted to save him from the pain."

The silence that was already getting pretty familiar with the scene returned once again. Then, Crowley turned to look at Aziraphale. "Doesn't this shock you at all, angel?" he asked sharply.

Now, a slight smile rose to Aziraphale's lips. "My dear, I knew it," he said, shocking pretty much everyone present. "Did you really think I wouldn't recognize your aura? Divine or not, I knew immediately that it was you behind me. Sure, it did shock me that you actually killed me in such a manner, and I was very bitter afterwards. However, over time I came to believe that you probably had a good reason for it, especially as you started to show some signs of having a tiny decent being somewhere deep inside. I have never questioned you about it because I figured I would find out with time if I was meant to find out. And I did."

Gabriel's wary expression turned into a broad smile. "Aww. The power of true love," he sighed, drawing Raphael closer to himself. "You two sure do make a cute couple in the end!"

Uriel, however, ignored his fellow archangel's words. Instead, he looked at Crowley. "Crowley... Carowiel," he said, sounding more hesitant than any of those present had ever heard -- which practically meant that he was more hesitant than ever before. "You have now received the evidence you demanded. Your wings are white, the marks of your demonic nature are away. The fire you summon is divine, your armour is silver, you even have your sword. After all this... Do you wish to have your sins forgiven?"

The silence came back, decided to rest for a bit, and lay down for a nap. Nobody said anything.

Then, very slowly, Crowley spoke.

**

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Next chapter:**

Text.


	23. Salvaging Souls

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: Sorry, but there's not going to be Uriel/Michael in this fic, and there's not going to be a sequel. (There's going to be Michael/somebody in the next chapter, though.) However, I'll soon be starting to work on my fanfic100 challenge about Aziraphale, and that will indeed contain Uriel/Michael... Although I make no promises as of how long is it going to take from me to get to it.

* * *

Chapter 23:

Salvaging Souls

* * *

When Crowley finally opened his mouth to speak, there was nothing else to be heard. The angels hardly dared to move a finger, they were all so strained to hear his response. 

"I have been a demon for six millennia," Crowley said quietly. "Most of what I did during all those years was definitely wrong, with no justification of any kind behind my actions. Even after all this, I'm finding it hard to believe that all that could just be forgiven." He now raised his eyes to his older brother, gold-freckled blue meeting pure blue. "But if it only is possible... Yes, I do want to be forgiven."

Now, an extremely rare smile spread onto Uriel's face. "Then consider yourself forgiven," he said softly, reaching his hand towards his brother. Very hesitantly, Crowley -- Carowiel -- stepped forward and grasped on it, only to be suddenly pulled into a tight embrace. "Carowiel," Uriel murmured into his brother's hair, "it is so good to have you back again... You have no idea how much I missed you!"

For a moment Carowiel was too stunned to act. Then, however, he returned the embrace. "I missed you too, Uriel," he said quietly, a tiny smile on his lips. "I missed you too."

The other angels watched this reunion with various reactions. Michael looked a bit surprised, Aziraphale and Raphael smiled, and Gabriel was wearing his best "awww" expression. (Which was rather good. Gabriel was what one could call a professional awww-er.)

At last Uriel released his brother, still keeping his hands on Carowiel's shoulders. "I blamed myself for it," he said quietly. "I thought that if I'd done something differently, you wouldn't have Fallen..."

"It wasn't your fault, Uriel," replied Carowiel with a weak smile. "I just hang out with the wrong people."

"You could have just stuck to Aziraphale's company," Michael commented, "but then again, I'm one to speak. After all, I was sleeping with the then future Adversary."

Now a brief grin crossed Carowiel's face. "You know, I always did wonder whether you two were more than just friends," he said with a bit of teasing in his voice. "It's nice to finally find out."

Michael rolled his eyes, a hint of smile tugging at his lips. "Well, I can assure you that I'm not sleeping with him anymore," he then said with perfect seriousness in his voice. "I'm glad to have you back, Carowiel -- and you too, Aziraphale. I definitely need people of your skill and power. In fact," he then said, now openly smiling, "I've been thinking that with all this added demonic activity, I have to get a couple of generals down on Earth to keep an eye on the situation. You two wouldn't be interested in that, would you?"

Aziraphale and Carowiel glanced at each other. Then Aziraphale raised an eyebrow in a way he had directly copied from Crowley. "I guessss that might be an acceptable tasssk," he hissed.

"Aziraphale!" exclaimed Gabriel, shocked. Every hint of awww-ness was immediately wiped away from his face. "Don't do that! It feels like you're about to Fall at any moment when you hiss like that!"

"Fine, fine, big brother," Aziraphale said, smirking a bit. "I definitely didn't want to make you feel like that." Grasping his lover's hand and finally pulling him out of Uriel's grasp, he then added, "I'm sure Carowiel will keep me from any evil ways. He definitely knows them well enough -- no offence, love."

"None taken," Carowiel replied mildly. Then he glanced at the archangels. "Well, now that this has been taken care of," he said, "could you now please leave us to our Christmas preparations? They were kind of interrupted by all those angels and demons running about, you see."

Michael grinned. "Go ahead, you two," he said. "I'm sure you have lots of preparing to catch up with, now that there's no more a demon in the house." His expression, however, told that he suspected true Christmas preparations were farthest from Carowiel's mind at the moment.

"We'll come to check on you after Christmas," Gabriel said. "Until then, behave yourselves."

"Oh, I believe we will," Carowiel said, smirking a bit. Then, however, he glanced at Raphael and frowned. "You don't look too good," he stated. "What is wrong with you? And why aren't you in bed?"

"Oh, nothing is wrong," replied Raphael with a weak smile. "And I'm out of bed because I forced Gabriel to take me along, lest I would have come down here all by myself. He apparently didn't want to risk that."

"Apparently you're still as stubborn as I remember when it comes to your own health," the youngest angel commented dryly. "You wanted to help us, didn't you? Well, there's no need to help us anymore. Now go Up There and get some sleep before you collapse."

"Giving orders to archangels now, eh?" asked Raphael with mild amusement. "Very well, I shall do as you say, Carowiel. And you shall go to whatever 'preparations' you had in mind."

"That's a deal," Carowiel said, grinning, and turned around. This time it was he who pulled Aziraphale.

For a moment the four archangels just watched as the two cherubim flew away. Then they glanced at each other. "It looks like being a demon didn't change him at all," commented Gabriel calmly.

"Apparently not," Michael said just as levelly. "Green and silver, Uriel?" he then asked. "How fitting."

"Well, he is my little brother," the darkhaired archangel replied with a hint of pride in his voice. "It is only appropriate for him to carry my colours and not yours. And before you say anything about Aziraphale, Gabriel, you are a messenger, not a warrior like us. And besides, he had your colours when he was young, Michael. Although he maybe doesn't appear to have changed, there must be some difference to the past."

"Indeed." Smirking a bit, Michael then glanced around at the puddles of slime and unidentifiable liquids that had once been demons. "I suppose we should now all head back to Heaven," he said. "Raphael definitely does need sleep, and I need some paperwork to complete, as does Uriel, I suspect."

"Well, yes," Uriel replied. "This is definitely the first time a demon has ever Risen. I suspect it will take quite some work to find a way to put that down to the records." He rolled his eyes and snorted, "Bureaucracy."

"Indeed." Michael smiled a bit. Then, he was away. Seconds later, Uriel was away, too.

Gabriel glanced at his lover. "You up to it, love?" he asked gently with only a hint of worry in his voice.

Raphael smiled a bit, turning to kiss Gabriel. "Definitely," he then murmured against his lover's lips.

A moment later the two stood in their apartment. Raphael almost fell, but Gabriel caught him, collecting the redhead into his arms. "Now, that's it. You're not getting out of the bed before you're well," he said sternly while carrying his lover towards their shared bed. "You shouldn't have even left it at the first place!"

"Oh, shut up," murmured Raphael, then let out a soft sigh as he was lowered onto the bed. Grasping on Gabriel's sleeve, he tugged at it and said, "Stay here. I want to sleep next to you."

Gabriel smiled a bit, then laid himself down next to his lover. "I'll stay," he promised, gently petting Raphael's hair, a slight smile on his lips as his fingers slid over the coppery locks. Smiling in contentment, Raphael shifted a bit, soon drifting into peaceful sleep. Gabriel soon followed him.

Quite some time later, there was the sound of somebody moving under the sheets. A man-shaped form made to leave the bed, but another one reached out a hand, grasping on the first one's arm and tugging at it, clearly indicating that the first form should stay in bed.

"...What about leading the choirs?" asked a voice. Its owner didn't sound too enthusiastic to fulfill the task.

"Nah," replied another voice, sounding even less eager. "Uriel's there, and we told Michael that he sings sometimes. After two millennia, I think we're entitled to a little break from that particular duty."

"I think," the other voice said, "I think you're absolutely right."

There was still some ruffling of sheets, then no more motion. Mere seconds later the only sound in the room was the breathing of two celestial beings, limbs tangled together under the sheets, one's head resting on another's chest.

Both asleep, neither of them heard as outside the choirs of angels soon began to sing.

**

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Next chapter:**

Michael meets somebody up on a cloud.


	24. Loathing Lovers

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: The one chapter before the last, and it contains Michael's secret lover, too!

* * *

Chapter 24:

Loathing Lovers

* * *

Michael floated in the air, watching as the angels gathered onto the sky, all ready to sing praise to their Lord. He caught a glimpse of an angel in white and green robe standing before the main choirs and smiled. It was definitely a high time for that -- after all, Uriel had been escaping his duty for two millennia. 

"Oi, Michael!" called out a voice. "Fancy seeing you here! Would you care for a drink?" Turning around, the Prince of Heaven saw the Prince of Hell sitting on the edge of a cloud rather carefreely.

A smirk crossed the archangel's face. "Begone, vile beast," he muttered, sitting down next to his hellish counterpart and accepting the beer that was offered. "What are you doing here?"

"The same thing I do every year, of course," replied Beelzebub calmly. "You should know by now." Now, it was the demon's turn to smirk. "I'm here to enjoy a drink in literally good company."

Michael snorted, sipping at his drink. "Still not afraid of the Host gathered, I see," he commented lightly. Not that he'd expected anything else. On Christmas night most demons chose to stay as deep in Hell as possible, unable to bear the holy aura that filled the skies everywhere in the world as all of the Heavenly Host gathered to sing together. Beelzebub, however, had for many years now chosen to instead sit up on a cloud with his celestial counterpart, enjoying the peace of the skies with no fear of fight.

Like Michael's words had been some kind of a trigger, the angels then began to sing. Beelzebub tilted his head, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Their leader is better this time," he then commented. "What's happened? I thought Raphael and Gabriel were going to lead the choirs again, but that's neither of them."

At that, Michael chuckled. "Well, those two kind of sneaked away together," he said with a smirk. "So, Uriel was left with no choice but to accept his rightful place as the leader of the heavenly choirs."

"No choice, eh?" The demon raised an eyebrow. "Why couldn't somebody else do that just as well?"

"Well, I managed to convince Uriel that it should be an archangel," the angel replied, still smirking. "And anybody who's ever heard me singing would beg me to stay silent for the whole night, not ask me to lead the choirs. So, the Angel of Arts is now doing his job for once -- and doing it well."

"Well, that's blessed true about you, Angel," Beelzebub laughed. "I've heard you singing, and I don't want a repeat of that experience. That's the very reason why I come up here every year, you know," he then added with a smirk. "I have to make sure you don't start singing and scar all those angels for existence. Of course, the fact that your presence lets me hear them singing without being burned helps too."

Michael laughed, too. Nobody else was around; there was no reason to live up to their roles now. "Well, if I actually sang, you might be even better off," he chuckled. "It'd completely undo the others' praise!"

"Doubtlessly," Beelzebub replied with a smirk. Then, he said, "So you got Crowley in the end. Well, feel free to keep him. I, for one, will definitely not miss him much." With a sideways glance at the archangel, he added, "Just don't expect me to Rise, too. I'm fine exactly as I am now."

"But of course, my dear," Michael said, mimicking Gabriel's voice. "It took about six millennia for the first demon to rise. So, I won't start expecting anything to happen until around year 8000, if even then."

The demon raised once again a dark eyebrow. "Indeed," he muttered, smirking a bit.

"So... Did you get orders to leave those two in peace, too?" asked Michael then casually. "Because if not, then I have to wonder why nobody from your side attacked them earlier."

"Well, there indeed was a prohibition against doing anything to them," Beelzebub replied. "It appears that some middle-class demon managed to convince several others that it wasn't true. They managed to somehow send out a Hellbeast to get rid of your angel, and when that didn't work, they decided to try a direct approach. One might think that being beaten by a single angel and a lower demon and then being put into a holy water shower would be quite enough of a punishment to them all." With a smirk, the Prince of Hell then added, "Of course, that doesn't mean that they aren't going to be punished more."

Michael smirked, too. "I'd figure so, yes," he said with a tiny chuckle. "Put in a few for me, too."

"Oh, I think I will do just that." Somehow the demon's arm had managed to end up wrapped around the angel's shoulders at some point. Beelzebub leaned towards Michael, his breath tickling the angel's ear as he continued with a tiny smirk, "Of course, I'd much rather put something _into _you."

The angel gazed at him with one blond eyebrow raised. "My dear demon, is that all you can think about?" he asked dryly. "Really, I should smite you for having such thoughts." Then, however, a smirk spread onto his lips as well. "I never knew you fancied such public places, though. You know, if you make me lose my concentration, you'll find yourself in a pretty bad situation."

"What do you mean?" asked Beelzebub, grinning. "I'd only have the auras of the whole Host singing praise battering me... Not to mention, should they notice _my_ aura, the Host itself doing that."

"Well, I think that by the time they recovered from witnessing us having sex, you would be far away," Michael commented, still smirking. "It'd be sure to do wonders to both of our reputations, though."

At that, Beelzebub laughed aloud. "Definitely," he chuckled. "Your people would come after me for defiling their mighty leader and my people would go after you for tricking me. Unless, of course, He Above and He Below decided to give us the same protection as they gave those two," he added with a smirk.

"Doubtful," the angel laughed. For a moment he was silent, resting his head against the demon's shoulder. Then, however, he suddenly stood up. "Come on, Beel. Let's get ourselves somewhere private."

"Eager, aren't we?" asked Beelzebub, the smirk still firmly on his face. "Not that I'm about to protest..."

* * *

Later they both lay on a bed, limbs tangled together, sweaty and sated. Their hair was mixed on the pillow, black and white locks happily clinging to each other on the heavenly white surface. Just as well their wings were stuck together, black and white crossing each other, one's feathers sliding between those of the other's. For a long time they were both silent, almost still, hands slowly gliding over naked skin in gentle caresses. Finally, though, one of them sat up, drawing his hair and wings away from their counterparts. 

"It'll soon be morning, so I'm off here," Beelzebub said. "You coming to walk me home?"

"Hardly," replied Michael, lazily raising a hand and tracing invisible patterns on the demon's bare back with his fingertips. "I'd rather not risk having to face all of Hell's demons alone. However," he then added with a small smirk, "I'd be more than happy to walk you to neutral ground."

"Excellent." The demon raised an eyebrow, smirking back. Then he stood up and wished for clothes. Offering a hand to his lover, he then asked, "Shall we go, then?"

"Definitely," Michael replied. Rising to his feet, he then wished for clothes as well and quietly led Beelzebub out of his apartment. He felt the demon flinching a bit as they passed Raphael and Gabriel's quarters, but otherwise there was no reaction as he led his lover through the whole Golden City. Aside from the two other archangels -- and Anael, Unsurel, and Lyriel -- every angel was in the skies of Earth singing. Well, he suspected that Aziraphale and Carowiel were down on Earth despite the fact that they could have been together up among the choirs for the first time ever, but that hardly mattered. The point was, the Golden City was empty for all but them, and Michael's aura was more than enough to protect Beelzebub from the holiness of the city. This was the only night of the year when they could meet on unneutral ground.

On the Pearly Gates he finally reluctantly let go of his lover's hand. "I believe you can find your way from here," he said, raising his hand to place it on Beelzebub's chest for the last time.

"I believe so, yes," the demon replied. Then he leaned forward to kiss Michael. Pulling back, he smirked a bit. "I'll see you around," he said, then turned and dove down through the clouds. For some time Michael looked after him. Then he, too, turned, and returned to his apartment, at the same time mentally going over his schedule for the next few weeks to find a convenient spot for a meeting with Beelzebub.

When he returned to his apartment, he found a single black feather lying on the bed.

**

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Next chapter:**

The conclusion. Azi & Carowiel celebrate Christmas.


	25. Carowiel's Christmas

Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: Like all good things, December must come to its end. And therefore, I give you the last chapter of it.

* * *

Chapter 25:

Carowiel's Christmas

* * *

Aziraphale leant against the back of the couch, gently running his fingers through Carowiel's hair as the other angel's head was resting in his lap. "It's Christmas," he said quietly. "The first true Christmas." 

Carowiel didn't say anything, just made a tiny agreeing sound. His eyes were closed, the pools of gold-freckled blue currently hidden, his long eyelashes brushing his cheeks. There was a smile of contentment on his face that Aziraphale rarely saw aside from some brief post-sex moments.

Now, Aziraphale tilted his head a bit, listening. "They haven't started yet," he said then. "Could we --" He swallowed a bit, then tried again, "Would you mind if we went to the roof of the shop... to listen?"

Now, Carowiel did open his eyes, looking up at his lover. "I'd love to," he said softly, a smile still on his lips. He then took his head from Aziraphale's lap and sat up, drawing a tiny sound of disappointment from the fairer angel. Glancing around, he smiled at the decorations scattered around the room. Most of them were angels, with equal amounts of blondes, redheads, brunets, and black-haired ones. Candles were burning on about every free surface. Only one small table was completely candle-less. However, even it was lit by the little star Aziraphale had miracled over the nativity scene arranged on it. In one corner stood a beautiful Christmas tree, full of candles and shiny little ornaments.

The year before such a sight would have made him flee in disgust and terror, with most probably setting all the decorations on fire at first. Now, however, the decorations brought him a strange sense of peace -- not least because he had himself put them up together with his beloved.

His gaze came upon a stack of parchment letters on the floor, and he smiled. Aziraphale's innocent, naive love letters to his young friend Carowiel had most certainly been pleasant to read, even more so now that he again was one of the Host. He would have to thank Gabriel for keeping them safe one day. Looking again at his lover, he smiled. "Did I already thank you for your present?" he asked.

"Only about a dozen of times," Aziraphale replied with a tiny chuckle. "I'm glad you liked it, though."

"I'm sorry I don't have another gift for you, though," Carowiel added. "But, like you know, after I gave that sword to you I haven't really been able to look for another." At this, his eyes wandered to the two swords standing in one corner of the room. They were both silver, and Aziraphale's had a sapphire on the hilt where his had an emerald. The sword was the only thing where Aziraphale carried his brother's colours.

"I don't want or need anything else," said Aziraphale in response. "You have already given me much more than I ever dared to wish for." They shared a fond smile, then both stood up from the couch.

"So. Up to the roof, then?" asked Carowiel, grinning. "We wouldn't want to miss the show, after all."

"Why, of courssse, my dear," hissed Aziraphale, grinning as well. "We can sssing along, too."

At that, Carowiel's expression brightened, if such a thing was anymore possible. Along with fighting, singing had always been the one angelic activity he both liked and excelled in. "That we ssshall do," he said, hissing as well. He maybe wasn't a demon anymore, but old habits die hard, and he didn't particularly want to get rid of this one, either. After all, it would only be good if he had some way to throw off certain old angels. As far as he could remember, some of the cherubim and seraphim could get very annoying at times. (Of course, to him 'old' meant quite a large part of the angelic Host. He was even younger than Aziraphale, and nobody would have even considered calling Aziraphale anything but a young angel.)

The two angels found themselves sitting on the rooftop just as night fell. Both invisible to human eyes, they stretched their wings, their faces turned up towards the sky, waiting.

And then, it began. From the first harmonious note a sense of infinite peace and contentment filled them from head to toe, strengthened their auras, purified them. Aziraphale simply sat on the roof, enjoying the incredible sensation, while Carowiel gawked like a little child. After all, the older angel had heard the choirs every year, although only faintly due to his efforts at closing the praise out around Crowley. To Carowiel, however, this was the first time he heard the celestial choirs, and the first Christmas night he didn't spend cowering in fear. Therefore he was amazed as he raised his face towards the sky, soaking up the feeling of holiness and purity that was poured onto Earth.

Quietly at first, Aziraphale began to sing. Slowly he dared to sing louder until his voice was echoing over the town. Humans in general couldn't really hear it, but everybody in hearing range felt a bit better than they had before. (Of course there was the odd human here and there who was a bit closer to the angelic wavelength and could tell that there was some unusual sound even if they couldn't make out the song. However, those were overwhelmed by the praise of the Host and couldn't tell his voice apart from it.)

At some point Carowiel joined in. His gold-freckled eyes looking up to the sky, seeing the faint glow of endless amounts of angels there, the freshly redeemed angel raised his voice in praise for the first time ever since the Fall. Like Aziraphale could well recall, Carowiel had always been a good singer, but now there seemed to be yet some new power and intensity in his voice.

Not ceasing his own singing, Aziraphale rested his head on Carowiel's shoulder, feeling an arm being wrapped around his shoulders. Somehow they managed to make their wings envelope them both, leaning against each other in their little nest of white feathers and the smell of Heaven.

As in the skies almost the whole Host of Heaven was gathered to bring praises to their Lord, down on Earth two angels raised their own voices, purer and clearer than any others.

And somewhere in the skies was a star, brighter than all the others, and it gave light to the whole Earth, bright and warm and pure.

**

* * *

A/N:**

There will be no sequel. However, I have claimed Aziraphale for the fanfic100 challenge, and I'll try my best to turn my responses into a 100-chaptered fic, which will partly follow the storyline of this fic aside from a few differences. The fic's name is _A Hundred White Feathers_, and it can be found at (copy, paste & remove spaces) www. fanfiction. net/ s/ 2723192/ 1/.


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